Greater Than Power
by chocolatequeen
Summary: On the quest to find the Horcruxes, Harry learns the meaning of the one thing greater than all Voldemort's power. How will his relationships with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny help him understand this?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**: **One Last Time**

The smallest bedroom of number four, Privet Drive had never been so tidy, and for an instant, Harry wondered if he wasn't somewhere else. The floor looked strange without the usual hodge-podge of books and clothes covering it—he and Ron had packed that all way in his trunk hours ago. Hermione had even made up the bed. Once they sent his things on to the Burrow, it would look like he had never lived here. _That should make my aunt and uncle very happy,_ he told himself wryly.

A quick glance at his watch told him it was quarter of midnight. They'd been told to expect an Order member to arrive directly at 12:00 to escort them to the Burrow. In just 15 minutes he would leave, and he wasn't coming back. He allowed the thought to soak into his mind, frowning slightly when it didn't bring quite as much joy as expected. _Surely I'm not going to miss this place, _he thought, furrowing his brow in puzzlement.

His thoughts were interrupted by someone calling his name. Looking up, he saw Hermione standing in the door, her hands on her hips. "It's almost time, Harry," she told him. "Are you ready?"

Pushing the odd feeling away, he grinned and jumped to his feet. "Yeah, I think so," he said, taking one last look for anything they might have missed.

"Well grab Hedwig's cage then, I'll take care of this." With a quick flick of her wand she had his trunk floating down the stairs in front of them. When they reached the entryway, she lowered it to the floor and Harry set the empty cage on top of it.

"What's up with you, Ron?" he asked, catching sight of his friend standing in the living room door. "You look like you just ate a whole box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans."

Ron didn't answer; instead, he just stood aside and gestured for Harry to walk passed him. When he entered the room, he was surprised to see the entire Dursley family sitting on the couch. "What are you still doing up?" he asked, glancing at the clock with a sinking feeling in his gut. 11:50.

Harry had been perfectly fine with the idea of sneaking out in the middle of the night. Truth be told, he had been relieved that his relatives would not be there to make their usual snide remarks to his friends. They'd started in on them their first morning back.

"I can't believe your parents let you go off by yourselves for three weeks," Aunt Petunia had sniffed when Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of Harry at the breakfast table.

Uncle Vernon had replied without looking up from his paper. "What else can you expect from freaks, Petunia?"

Hermione hadn't been bothered by it; she simply informed them that her parents were actually Muggles. They hadn't said much to her since—Harry suspected that meeting a Muggle-born witch had reminded his aunt of his mother.

Ron however had nearly blown a gasket, as he always did when someone insulted his family. The Dursleys had sensed that he would be an easy person to get a rise out of, and they'd seemed to make a sport of it. He had gotten angrier with each nasty comment, and Harry didn't really want to test his friend's restraint.

"Just making sure you get off all right, Boy," Uncle Vernon answered with a fake smile on his face.

"Did you get everything out of the room?" Dudley demanded. "I'll be moving my things back in there tomorrow, and I don't want to find any eye of newt on the shelves."

Ron snarled and Harry looked over quickly to see that Hermione had a firm grip on his wand arm. "You can't hex him Ron," she reminded loudly.

"Come on, Hermione, just let me turn him into a newt!" Ron yelled, glaring at Dudley, who attempted to hide his large mass in the cushions of the couch.

"No Ronald, it's against the law," she said firmly.

For some reason, the whole situation amused Harry—perhaps it was because he finally held the upper hand with his relatives, after years of mistreatment. Hiding the humor in his eyes, he turned back to the Dursleys, who were watching fearfully. "Bad move, Dudders," he said. "You really annoyed Ron this time… Actually, I think being turned into a newt might be an improvement on your looks."

He barely had time to register Aunt Petunia's gasp of indignation when he heard the distinctive pop of someone Apparating into the entryway. Relaxing a bit, he turned slightly and called out, "We're in here!"

He saw Mad-Eye Moody stomp into the room out of the corner of his eye. "What's going on in here?" the Auror growled, taking the scene in. "Put your wand away Weasley, do you want to go to Azkaban for cursing a Muggle?"

With a final glare at Dudley, Ron pocketed his wand. Harry waited for a reprimand on proper wand handling and buttocks being blown off, but Mad-Eye's attention was fixed firmly on the Dursleys. "What are you lot doing up?"

"We wanted to say good-bye to Harry," Aunt Petunia said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Hah!" Mad-Eye snorted, his magical eye spinning wildly as he looked at them. "Wanted to make sure he really left is more like it."

From the looks on their faces, Harry knew he'd hit the mark. However, he also saw fear and knew there was no way they'd ever agree, or say anything else they might be thinking. He bit back another grin. Apparently, they still remembered Moody's threats from the previous year.

"Right then," Hermione said briskly. "We'll just send our things on ahead and then we'll be out of your hair." With a wave of her wand, all three trunks and Hedwig's cage disappeared, leaving only their brooms behind.

"You won't be needing those either," Mad-Eye said, sending them ahead as well.

Ron and Harry exchanged a puzzled glance, both thinking the same thing: _Doesn't he know we can't Apparate yet?_ Just in case he didn't, Harry cleared his throat and said, "How are Ron and I getting to the Burrow? We don't have our Apparition licenses yet."

"I know that, Potter!" Moody retorted, rolling his good eye in exasperation. " But did you really believe we'd let you go flying cross-country on a broomstick tonight of all nights, when Voldemort knows he could strike?" Harry nodded, chagrined; Moody had a good point. Voldemort knew better than anyone that the magical protection provided by his relatives had just expired. "But you're right, we can't Apparate—although I think you've proven yourself more than capable, even at Side-Along Apparition."

Harry was in whole hearted agreement, but he knew with his current tense relationship with the Ministry there was no way he could get around the test. He'd have to do everything exactly by the book. "When can we take the test?" he asked, anxious to get it over with.

"That's where we're going now," Moody told him, pulling a spoon out of his pocket. "Port-key to the Leaky Cauldron, set to activate in five minutes. We'll get a room there for the night, and then you two can take your test in the morning, and get some gold out of Gringotts. You can't very well traipse around the country without money."

"Ahem." Harry swung around, almost surprised to see his relatives still sitting there. "Were you taking off then?" Uncle Vernon asked, looking significantly at the clock.

"Don't worry Dursley, we're on our way," Mad-Eye grunted, opening the door.

Harry was quiet as he walked out of the house; that not quite pleasant feeling he'd had earlier was back with a vengeance. "You all right Harry?" Ron asked as they reached the end of Privet Drive.

"Why are we out here?" Harry asked, avoiding the question.

"Couldn't stand looking at that lot anymore," Moody stated. "We'll wait right here for the Port-key to activate, it won't be long now."

The question hadn't distracted Ron though, and Harry shifted uneasily under his gaze. His friend picked the worst times to be insightful. "What's wrong?" Ron asked bluntly.

He sighed, knowing he'd have to answer the question. "I dunno," he said slowly. "It feels weird to be leaving… I've lived here my entire life, and I'll most likely never see it again.

"You're mental," Ron snorted. "You hate this place, remember? Now you almost sound like you're going to miss it. Come on, you've got a room waiting for you at the Burrow and you know Mum is dying to see you."

Harry stared back at number four, watching as the lights went out. "Maybe that's it," he whispered, almost to himself. "I hated it here so much, all the time I lived here, I was never homesick. I didn't mind not being home for holidays, because there was no one who wanted me to be home. I will miss the Burrow though, and I guess that scares me a bit. My only experience with missing home was wanting to get back to Hogwarts every summer."

Ron stared at him for a moment then said, "It's scary, but in some bizarre way, that almost makes sense."

"If social hour is over," Mad-Eye glowered, "the Port-key is almost ready to activate."

Duly chastened, both boys touched the spoon Moody was holding, putting their fingers on either side of Hermione's. "Right then," Harry said with a determined glint in his eye. "First stop London, second… home."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Nothing Gold Can Stay**

Harry glanced around the lawn furtively as he slunk away from the house, shielded from sight by his Invisibility Cloak. Everyone was bustling around, helping with the wedding preparations, and for a moment he felt bad for sneaking away. His guilt disappeared though when he reached his destination.

Shedding his Cloak and placing it in his robes, he sank gratefully into the cool grass alongside the pond. It was the first time since he'd arrived at the Burrow nine days ago that he'd been alone. First, there'd been the usual welcomes and then—

"What ees thees doing 'ere?"

Despite the trees that hid him from view, Fleur's shrill voice sent him ducking for cover. Her moods had become increasingly volatile with each passing day, and even though he knew it was just stress, he couldn't help but be glad that the wedding was this evening and then she and Bill would be leaving on their honeymoon.

_Not that I'll be around to enjoy her absence, _he reminded himself dryly. He, Ron, and Hermione were leaving the next day for Godric's Hollow. After that, the plan was sketchy at best. They had no idea what they might find, or where to begin looking for the Horcruxes.

Harry shifted, lying down so he could stare up at the clouds floating across the blue sky. He wasn't even sure what it was that made him want to start at his parents' old home. Part of it was a desire to see where they were buried, to truly say goodbye to them like he had done with Dumbledore at the funeral. There was more to it though. Perhaps they would find something important, some clue in the ramshackle left of his first home; he couldn't say. Somehow, something in him was drawing him there, and that was all he knew.

He didn't want to think about this now though. He was in one of his favorite places in the world and it couldn't have been a more beautiful day. For once, he allowed the cares of the world to fall at his feet, instead of resting on his shoulder like they usually did. Under the warmth of the afternoon sun, he slowly drifted in a dreamless sleep.

"Harry! Harry Potter, get in here this instant!" Opening his eyes slowly, he cursed when he saw that the sun, which had barely been past its zenith when he'd left the house, was now almost to the horizon. Fleur had insisted on a sunset wedding, and from the look of things, it was almost time. "Harry!" Molly Weasley's strident tone confirmed that, and he quickly rose to return to the house.

As he rounded a corner behind some bushes, he ran full force into Ron. "Oof! Ron grunted. "Hey mate, where have you been? Mum's about to have kittens. Fleur wants to start in 15 minutes and you're," Ron's eyes widened, taking in his friend's appearance. "you're not even dressed yet!"

Grimacing, Harry put on a burst of speed and dashed past a few surprised looking wedding guests and into the house. "Sorry Mrs. Weasley," he panted as he passed her. "I'll be right there, I promise."

Stopping in the bathroom, he quickly washed his face and shrugged at his overly messy hair. There wasn't anything he could do about that. In the room he and Ron were sharing with the twins, he discarded his everyday robes and pulled his green dress robes on—he was ready, and he still had 10 minutes before the ceremony was supposed to begin.

This time, he was walking sedately as he passed the other guests, weaving his way to the first row of chairs. The Weasleys had informed him and Hermione that they were expected to sit "with the rest of the family." As he took his seat, Harry basked again in the warm glow those words had given him. He had a home now, and a family… and he was leaving them both in the morning.

The thought left such a bitter taste in his mouth that he barely noticed the music began. He was only dimly aware of the proceedings; even Fleur's perfectly timed sunset vows didn't catch his attention.

The reception was on the lawn, lit first by the pale glow of twilight and later by brightly flickering torches. There was a dance floor and a cake table, but Harry avoided both of them. Instead, he dropped into one of the chairs on the edge of the gathering, determined not to ruin the happiness with his own suddenly bleak mood.

The evening star was already visible when a voice whispered in his ear, "You're brooding again."

Harry half shrugged, giving Hermione a forced smile. "It's hard not to, don't you think?" he muttered.

He didn't miss the way she rolled her eyes as she sat down next to him, but he didn't really mind. "This is supposed to be a happy time, Harry," she reminded him.

"One last golden day of peace," he said quietly. "That's how I've been thinking of it all summer. But Hermione… what if it is the last one?" he asked, almost desperately. "We're leaving in the morning, and we have no idea… what if we never get another day like this? What if… what if we lose?"

"Don't you dare talk like that, Harry Potter," she ordered, her voice stern. "We're leaving to protect this. We'll win, because we know we have days like this to come back."

Harry stared at her uncomprehendingly. "What are you talking about?"

He watched her roll her eyes again, this time feeling a bit irked by it. How was he supposed to understand her if she talked in riddles? "You have a goal, Harry—a reason for fighting. That's more than He has."

"He fights for power," Harry pointed out.

"Fighting for the sake of more fighting!" she countered, shaking her head impatiently. "That's all he has. He couldn't see anything else if it danced naked in front of his red eyes." Harry laughed, and Hermione smiled in satisfaction. Finally, she was getting through to him. "You have more though," she continued, pointing at the crowd. "You have this."

Harry's eyes swept over his family and friends before coming to rest on a lithe figure weaving her way through the crowd, smiling warmly at her brother as he handed her a glass of punch.

Hermione smiled again when she saw what had caught his eye and rose quietly to go back to the party. Harry barely noticed; he was too busy watching Ginny. Her gold bridesmaid robes shimmered in the lamplight as she walked, and her russet hair was pulled into a knot so the ends cascaded down her back. She was… "Beautiful," Harry whispered, unable to take his eyes off her.

For a while he was content to watch her, though the monster in his chest protested loudly whenever she danced with another man. Then, after almost a half hour of merrymaking, she finally took a seat in a quiet corner. The monster growled his approval when she laughingly refused the next man to approach her, and then, almost against his will, he found himself standing and moving toward her.

"Take a walk with me?" he asked quietly, holding his hand out to her.

She stared at it for a moment, then up at him, before taking it and allowing him to pull her to her feet. Without a word, he placed his hand in the small of her back and gently guided her toward the pond, where he knew benches had been set up for guests who wanted a bit of privacy and cool air.

It was he who broke the silence a moment later. "How've you been, Ginny?" he asked, wincing at the inanity of the question. "I mean, we haven't really had a chance to talk since I got here and we're taking off tomorrow and I wanted…" He paused, letting his words hang in the air. _What do I want?_ he wondered. _Why did I think it would be a good idea to talk to her now?_

"It's okay, Harry," Ginny told him. "Don't worry. I'm not going to throw myself at your feet tomorrow morning and beg you to take me with you." Even in the dark, Harry could see the corners of her mouth tilt up in a wry smile. "Not that it would do much good if I tried," she added. "It seems like you have your mind made up."

This was what he had wanted, he realized. A chance to explain, to make sure she didn't hate him for leaving her behind. "Ginny…"

She shook her head slightly, placing a hand over his mouth. "Don't Harry. Don't try to explain it to me. I understand more than you think . I know that you need me here… you need to believe I'll be safe. Because I understand, I'll be on the train to Hogwarts in three weeks, like any normal 16 year old witch. I won't argue… I'll stay safe."

Harry was momentarily disappointed that she wasn't putting up a fight. A brief wave of uncertainty swept over him—did she not want to be with him at all? The thought made his heart hurt in a way he was not at all familiar with, but before he had time to ponder what it meant, she was speaking again.

This time, her voice was fierce. Harry instantly relaxed; this was the Ginny he was used to. "But you listen to me, Harry Potter," she said, turning slightly and poking him in the chest. "I've got some conditions of my own. You three can go off and search for all the bits of Tom's soul without me—"

"Who told you about that?" he asked quickly. He, Ron, and Hermione hadn't told anyone the details of their journey; that had been Dumbledore's wish. They'd simply said that they were going to track Voldemort down. Molly hadn't been happy with the idea of her youngest son and two adopted children "traipsing around the countryside doing who knows what" as she'd put it, but since they were all of age, she couldn't do much about it. No, no one know about the Horcruxes besides them, and he couldn't imagine they would tell her… "How did you know what we're going to do?"

"I overheard you talking last night," she said.

He stared at her, not believing this was happening. He'd tried so hard to keep the secret, and now she knew anyway. "Were you using the Extendable Ears?" he asked. He had to know if she had been trying to eavesdrop or if it had been accidental. He had to know if he could trust her.

"No! I won't say I didn't think about it, but you were so determined not to say, I knew I couldn't do that to you. I know you refused to tell the Minister of Magic where you were going, and I heard you tell Mum and Dad that you'd promised Professor Dumbledore to keep it a secret. I wouldn't betray you like that.

"But last night, I had my window open when you were talking with Ron and Hermione on the back porch, and I just… overheard."

Harry wearily ran his hand through his hair. "We thought everyone was asleep," he mumbled.

"I always have a hard time sleeping when it's this hot," she said with a shrug. "Don't worry, I won't tell Mum and I won't stop you or try to come with you." Her voice changed again, regaining her earlier intensity. "But when it's time for the final battle, I'll be there. I won't be left on the sidelines like some weak little girl, do you understand me?"

Panic rose in Harry and he spoke without thinking. "Killing Voldemort is my job, Gin," he protested. "You don't need to be there."

He knew instantly that he'd made a colossal blunder. "I don't need to be there?" she seethed, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Have you forgotten again that the smarmy bastard possessed me? He tried to get me to kill my friends! Believe me," she took a deep breath and continued in a softer tone. "Believe me, I need to be there."

Harry frowned at her. "I don't like it," he said bluntly.

Her laughter was bitter. "And I didn't like you breaking up with me and leaving me behind, but I understood why you had to do it, and I respect you enough to oblige you. Can't you do the same for me?"

He looked away for a moment, his stomach churning at the thought of Ginny surrounded by Death Eaters. That was precisely what he'd been trying to avoid when he ended there relationship… and yet, he couldn't deny that she had more right than almost anyone to be there when it ended. "All right," he said shortly, aware that she released a breath. "We'll come get you… you'll be there when it ends."

His words eased some of the tension between them, and they were able to sit quietly together as the sky grew dark. Once the light had completely faded away, they watched in silence as the Perseid meteor shower began its stellar display.

"Make a wish," Harry whispered after one particularly brilliant batch of falling stars.

"Hmmm?"

"You saw a falling star… make a wish," he repeated.

She straightened a bit and said, "Harry, what time is it?"

He squinted at his watch in the pale moonlight and said, "12:30, why?"

"It's my birthday," she told him. "It's a double wish, a birthday wish made on a falling star." She kept her face turned to the sky for a moment longer, her eyes closed as she made her wish. Then she smiled and looked at him. "Do you want to know what I wished for?" she asked.

"I thought it wouldn't come true if you told someone," he teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him and said, "If you don't want to know, then I won't tell you."

"No, tell me!"

"I'm sorry sir," she said, her impish smile belying her formal tone, "I've been informed that once a wish is revealed, it will not come true. I'm afraid that in the interest of wish fulfillment, it will have to remain a secret."

"Fine. Be that way," he pouted.

She smiled wickedly; besting him always made her happy. She turned back to stare at the sky again, but Harry could not take his eyes off her. In the starlight he studied the curve of her cheek and the way one curl had teased itself loose from the clip. Without even thinking about it, he reached up and brushed it back. She looked at him then, and he knew he couldn't leave without kissing her once more.

He whispered her name and watched as her eyelashes fluttered and then closed. Leaning in slowly, he brushed the curl back once more, this time placing his hand at the nape of her neck. Tilting her chin up with his other hand, he kissed her gently, savoring once more the feel of her lips under his.

This kiss, like their first, stretched for an indeterminate length of time. However, the emotion behind it was not the flash of joy caused by a first kiss, but rather a bittersweet poignancy. This was not hello but goodbye, and they both knew it.

_So Eden_ _sank to grief,  
So dawn goes down to day.  
Nothing gold can stay._

_Robert Frost_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig**

Somewhere in the middle of the night after Bill and Fleur's wedding, Harry had decided that kissing Ginny had been a Bad Idea, and selfish one at that. Ending things with her hadn't been easy. The one saving grace had been that it was a clean break, or at least it was before he muddied up the waters by kissing her again.

He had intended to apologize that morning before leaving with Ron and Hermione, instead he had to leave without talking to her at all. Unlike the rest of the family, she hadn't trooped downstairs to see the trio off. Hermione told him she'd claimed exhaustion and had chosen to remain in bed, but he knew she was avoiding him. _She knows it was a mistake too,_ he thought. Her mother had frowned up at Ginny's window and would have dragged her out if Harry hadn't convinced her that they'd said their goodbyes the night before.

After Remus gave them a speech on precautions and contact procedures, Molly had hugged them tearfully and begged them to be careful. They had walked just beyond the wards and then Apparated to a set of coordinates Mr. Weasley had said was about two miles outside of Godric's Hollow.

By now, Harry's mood could only be categorized as surly. It was lunchtime, and they were sitting around an old wooden table in a pub called The Sword and the Lion. Harry knew that his friends had noticed his mood, but they hadn't commented. Instead, Hermione had adopted her best schoolteacher voice as she told them everything she knew about Godric's Hollow—which, not surprisingly, was quite a lot.

"The town was named after Gryffindor you know," she said animatedly. "This was where he lived before founding Hogwarts, and during the summer holidays." Lowering her voice, she added, 'There used to be quite a few Wizarding families in the area, but I'm afraid they've all died out or moved away."

Harry took a little closer look at his surroundings now that he knew the town was named for the famous wizard. When they'd walked in, he'd barely noticed the rustic décor. Now he could see that the owners had purposely done things to give the place a Medieval feel—the wooden tables were rectangular and roughhewn, light was provided by sconces that cast flickering shadows on the walls, and there was a huge fireplace at the end of the room that he imagined would have a roaring fire in the winter months.

What truly caught his attention though was what hung above the fireplace. Suddenly, the name of the pub made sense. "Hermione, did Gryffindor come here for a pint when he was in town?"

Hermione fairly beamed at his astute question. "Yes, he did! I thought it was fitting, since we are Gryffindors. This isn't the original building of course, that burnt down in the fourteenth century, but the owner started back up on the same spot. How did you guess, Harry?"

"Because that is a perfect replica of his sword," Harry said, pointing at the wall above the mantel.

Ron, who up to this point had been busy eating, stopped and stared with a pasty halfway to his mouth. "Y'mean the one you pulled out of the Sorting Hat back in second year?" he questioned.

"And the one that's the only known Gryffindor artifact," Hermione added.

"That's the one," Harry agreed, rising to his feet and moving to take a closer look. For a copy, it was remarkably detailed. The rubies in the hilt were paste of course, but it was the same length as the original and the founder's name was etched in the blade with the same flourish. He reached up and placed his hand on the hilt, and for a moment he could almost believe that he was in Dumbledore's office, listening as his mentor discussed the identity of the Horcruxes.

The moment was broken when a woman behind him said, "Well bless my soul…is that… are you…" Harry tensed. After six years as the Boy-Who-Lived, he was used to being recognized, but this trip depended on secrecy. He held his breath, waiting for her to expose him. "Is that you, James Potter?" she asked.

Harry's jaw dropped. He swung around and came face to face with a stout woman who he judged from her white hair and wire glasses to be in her early 70s. "You knew my father?" he asked, astonished.

"Your father?" she said with a frown. "But of course, James had hazel eyes… and he would be much older by now. You do look exactly like him from the back though. What's your name, young Mister Potter?"

"My name is Harry," he replied, holding out his hand.

She shook it and said, "And I'm Elaine Trent, life-long resident of Godric's Hollow."

Harry was filled with anticipation. This was why he'd been drawn back here. "Would you care to sit with my friends and I?" he offered, politely, gesturing to their table. "I'd love to hear about my dad; how you knew him, what he was like…"

"Let me sit down first," she said, laughing a little at his enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "I was so surprised, I forgot my manners. I should introduce my friends as well, Ron and Hermione."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm Elaine Trent."

"Mrs. Trent says she knew my dad," Harry explained, taking his seat next to Ron and across from the elderly woman.

"Yes, I knew your father. Why, didn't he grow up right here in Godric's Hollow?"

Harry could not have been more shocked if Voldemort himself had Apparated into the pub. "He did?" he asked weakly, sagging against the back of his chair.

"Well of course he did," she said briskly. "The Potters have lived here for generations… at least they did until Daniel and Evelyn died."

"Daniel and Evelyn?" Hermione prompted, seeing that Harry was too stunned to speak.

"Harry's grandparents. How is it that you don't know any of this?" she asked, gazing at him curiously. "I would have though James would tell you all about your family. He was always quite proud to be a Potter," she reminisced, a fond smile on her face.

This time it was Ron who answered for him. "Harry's parents died when he was just a baby," he explained, pushing away his empty plate. "His aunt and uncle… uh… they didn't talk about them much."

Harry snorted at the understatement, then asked the question that had been nagging at him since she'd called him by his father's name. "How come you don't know this? They died in Godric's Hollow."

Mrs. Trent's jaw slackened a bit. "I… didn't know. When was this?"

"Sixteen years ago on Halloween," he told her, watching her face carefully. Moody's never ending harping of "Constant vigilance!" had gotten through to him, and though she seemed innocent, it was odd that she claimed to have known his father and yet didn't know about his death.

"Sixteen years ago, that'd by 1981. I spent that year in Kent helping my sister recover from surgery," she said. "I do seem to remember hearing something about a gas leak and an explosion… that was your parents?"

Harry almost said no, but then he realized that the Oblivators would have given everyone an explanation they could accept—one that didn't include magic. He nodded slowly and Mrs. Trent sniffed. "I suppose I'd better fill you in on the Potters then, hadn't I?" He nodded again, this time eagerly, and she chuckled a bit. "It's hard to believe you never knew your father, you are so like him. Well, I'll start at the beginning. Your middle name is James, I suppose?"

Harry gaped at her for a moment before catching on. "Is that a family tradition?" he asked.

"For as long as I can remember," she affirmed.

"So Dad's middle name was…"

"Daniel, after your grandfather." She stopped for a moment, clearly lost in memory. "Your grandparents were good people," she said when she started again. "They fell in love during the War when she was his nurse after he was injured on some sort of spy mission. They never did give many details about that," she mused. The trio exchanged a glance, knowing the reason for that. Daniel must have been an Auror or something similar during the war against Grindelwald.

"They wanted children so badly, but it seemed like an impossible dream… until finally, after 16 years of marriage, you father was born. I don't think I've ever seen a more spoiled child in all my life," she added, laughing a little. "He was a sweet little boy, but he could talk himself out of any of the mischief he got into."

"Did he have to do that often?" Harry asked, trying to picture his father as a boy.

"Oh my yes. I've never known anyone with such a penchant for pranks. He was always getting into something."

Harry grinned. That sounded like the James Potter who had later become one of the Marauders. "From what I've heard from his old school friends, he didn't stop when he went away to school," he said.

"That doesn't surprise me. Every summer when he came home, he was up to his old tricks… at least until the summer before his 7th year."

"What happened that year?" Hermione asked, jumping into the conversation again.

"I'm not sure, though I suspect something happened at school that year to sober him up, so to speak. He was still the same fun-loving James, but he could be serious too. His fun was more mature."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other again. They could hazard a guess as to what had happened—Sirius had pulled his prank on Snape, almost getting him killed. For a moment, Harry felt fury rip through him and he wished his father had not succeeded in saving Snape's life. So much would be different now… he wouldn't be alone. Forcing the emotion down, he trained his focus back on Mrs. Trent, who was sharing about his grandparents' funeral.

"It was quite sad that they died at what was really a young age, but I guess they were old enough that their bodies just couldn't fight off the flu, especially not such a virulent strain."

"I'm sorry, I must have missed it… when did they die?" Harry asked.

"The summer after James' graduation from school. He was devastated—losing his parents when he was 18, and both in the space of two weeks. He left town after the funeral and I never saw him again."

"I know what it feels like, being an orphan," Harry said with a hint of bitterness.

"I know you do dear," she said sympathetically.

"Mrs. Trent, Harry was actually hoping to see the house he lived in as a baby," Hermione said. "Would you be able to take us there?"

Mrs. Trent shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid not. There wasn't much left after the explosion, and then about a year later they pulled down the wreckage and put in a play park."

"What about their graves then?" Harry pressed, wanting to see some sign that they had actually been real.

She frowned, trying to remember what she'd heard. "They told me the police took their bodies away, I assumed they were taken to be buried with family." She paused, a speculative gleam in her eye. "Actually, if that's the case I might be able to help you after all, " she told him.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, leaning across the table.

"I told you the Potters were from here, didn't I? So if your parents were buried in the family cemetery…"

"There's a family cemetery?" he asked. Thanks to Sirius and Remus, he'd know that his father came from an old and wealthy family, but that had merely been academic knowledge before. The idea of a family cemetery was surreal.

"On the Potter land," she affirmed. "I suppose that belongs to you now, or it will when you reach adulthood."

"Right," Harry said dazedly. "So… can you take me there?"

His heart sank when she glanced at her watch and shook her head. "I'm afraid I really need to be going; I'm already late for an appointment," she said. "I can give you directions if you like," she offered when his face fell.

"Could you?" he asked gratefully.

"Of course. I imagine you'd like to be alone the first time you see the house anyway," she said with an understanding smile. "Now, all you need to do is take High Street north of town for about 3 miles. The road curves there and you'll see the drive on your right."

She rose to her feet and Harry and Ron did the same. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Trent," Harry said, shaking her hand. "You don't know how much it means to me, hearing about my family."

"I can guess, my dear," she said before placing a quick kiss on his cheek and walking away. "So like his father," they heard her murmur as she left the pub.

"Shall we go then?" Hermione asked, picking up her pack and walking out of the building. Harry and Ron followed her down Main Street, and soon they were past the outskirts of town.

"Are we going to Apparate from here?" Ron asked after making sure no one was in earshot.

Harry shook his head and kept walking. "We don't have the coordinates," he pointed out. "Besides, we don't know what kind of wards my grandparents had in place, and I really don't fancy splinching myself on our first day out. It's only 3 miles, we can walk."

Ron shrugged, not having an argument against Harry's points. He was extremely anxious to reach the Potter house though. _The Potter House…_ he pondered. "Hey, something just occurred to me," he said. "How come no one ever told you your family was from here?"

Harry tilted his head as he considered this. Of all the questions Mrs. Trent's revelations had raised—and there were several—this was one he hadn't thought of. "I don't know. Maybe they wanted it to be a secret—didn't want uninvited guests dropping by," he suggested, knowing as he did so that it wasn't very likely. "What do you think, Hermione?"

Hermione didn't answer, and when Harry saw the faint blush spreading across her face, he had a hunch. "I don't suppose the Potters were one of those old Wizarding families mentioned in your books," he guessed.

She nodded guiltily. "I was going to tell you," she said, "but I didn't want to you to be disappointed if the house wasn't there anymore. I planned to ask someone about it tomorrow."

"Hermione! How could… Why didn't you…" Ron was so surprised he couldn't string four words together.

"S'ok mate," Harry said. "She was right—it would have been a letdown to come all this way and find out it was gone. This way it was a surprise, a pleasant one for once. It's not everyday you're told you have an ancestral home," he said cheekily.

"But why didn't Remus tell you?" Ron protested. "Or… or Sirius, or Dumbledore?"

Harry sighed, his smile gone. "I reckon they all figured I'd run away from the Dursleys if I knew I had a home of my own," he said quietly. "And before last summer, I most likely would have, and then I would have lost the protection of my mother's blood. Sometimes people keep things from us for our own good."

The happy mood dimmed, they traveled in silence for a while, watching the countryside as they walked. Despite the rows of trees dividing the land into a green patchwork quilt, the moor retained a hint of its natural wildness. The heather growing by the roadside moved as it was caught in a gust of wind, and overhead, a merlin circled and then dived for its prey. In the distance, Harry spotted a group of trees. Somehow, he knew that was where they were going.

"Here's the curve Mrs. Trent mentioned," Hermione said 30 minutes later. "Start looking for our turn."

They didn't have far to look; after about 300 feet, a narrow, hedge lined drive broke with the main road and led to a rambling stone house. "No imposing manor house, Harry?" Ron asked, only half joking.

"When you're rich in other areas, you don't have to flaunt your physical wealth," Hermione informed him haughtily.

"I know that, Hermione," he said indignantly.

"Then why do you talk about money so much?"

"I don't know, maybe because I don't have any!"

Sensing another fight brewing, Harry walked toward the trees he had seen earlier. They were behind the house and as he circled it, he realized that although it wasn't showy, it was definitely larger than your average home. It had two stories plus a full attic, and he imagined the Dursleys' whole house would fit on the main floor.

He kept walking until he reached the copse, and there, shaded by the trees, he found the family burial plot. Some of the stones were weathered and worn, giving silent testimony to the generations of Potters who had gone before. His attention fixed on the newest marker, a white headstone that read, "James and Lily: Lived together, died together."

Harry kneeled on the grass covering their grave and placed his hand on the cool marble, tracing his finger over their names. At that moment, he felt closer to his parents than he had in his entire life. He was also more aware than he had ever been that they were dead, and he took a few deep breaths to compose himself.

"Oy Harry, where'd you run off to?" Ron called, coming around the house with Hermione.

She took one look at his posture and knew where he was. "Shhh Ron, leave him alone!" she chided softly.

"It's all right, Hermione," Harry said, standing and dusting off his pants. "Are you we ready to explore the house?"

"We already tried, Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head ruefully. "I tried every spell I could think of… the doors won't open."

"You probably need the key," Ron added. "Maybe there's one hidden around here somewhere."

Harry thought for a moment and then shook his head. "I'm of age now," he reminded them. "If there was a key, it would have been in my vault at Gringotts, or sent to me by owl from a lawyer. There must be something else."

He walked back to the front door with Ron and Hermione following him. For a moment, he considered using his wand, but his gut told him that was not the answer. Instead, he reached out and turned the knob and somehow was not at all surprised when the door opened soundlessly.

Ron gawped in amazement. "How'd you do that?" he asked, peering inside.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe it can only be opened by a Potter."

"Of course!" Hermione agreed. "There couldn't be any better security."

"Would you care to come in?" Harry asked, grinning at them.

They walked through the door into a large entryway with a high ceiling. To the right was a staircase leading to the first floor, and to the left was a door opening into the great room, filled with furniture that had been protected by sheets. Directly in front of them was a hallway that led to the rest of the main floor.

"Shall we split up?" Hermione suggested.

"I'll go this way," Ron said, pointing down the hall. "I bet the kitchen is back there."

Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes and swallowed their laughter. "Ron, the house has been empty for 20 years, I don't think you're going to find anything to eat," Harry said.

"Oh. Right. Well, I'll still take the main floor, you and Hermione can go upstairs."

They watched him disappear down the hall before climbing the stairs. At the top of the staircase was another hallway, this one stretching the length of the house. "I'll go right, you go left," Harry told her, opening the first door on his right.

It was a bedroom, as was the one across the hall. Neither of them were remarkable, so he closed the doors and moved on. The next room was a large guest bathroom, fit with fixtures that were probably almost brand new in 1978. He walked a little farther, passing snoring portraits that he realized were probably his ancestors.

Just past a second hall that ran to the back of the house, he found two doors side by side. The first revealed another bathroom, this one larger than the first and with a connecting door to the room next to it. Holding his breath, he opened it.

The entire room was decorated in Quidditch memorabilia. There were pennants for the Montrose Magpies and a signed picture of the 1975 team, still laughing and celebrating an apparent victory. On the opposite wall, hanging directly above the bed, was an antique racing broom.

There was no doubt in his mind that this had been his father's boyhood room. Dropping the bag he still carried on the floor, he crossed the room and sank down into the bed, holding his head in his hands as he fought to regain control of his emotions. Going to Hogwarts had given him some sense of connection with his parents, just knowing they'd walked down the same hall to their classes and had spent their evenings in the same common room. Seeing their grave earlier had been even more intense, but that was proof that they were dead. This was proof that his father, the man he had heard so much about but never known, had actually lived. _Dad was probably the last person to sit on this bed,_ he thought, allowing a single tear to fall.

A door slamming shut on the other end of the hall gave him enough notice to pull himself together. "I'm in here Hermione," he called when he heard her walking down the hall.

"Harry, I found the master bedroom and…" She stopped, taking a look around. "Is this your dad's room?" she asked.

"It must be, unless you know of another Potter who's a Quidditch fanatic."

"Oh, I don't know… I think being a Quidditch fanatic must be in the Potter genes," she teased.

Harry smiled. "Well then, I guess this room is mine now." It was a joke, but as soon as he said it, he knew it was right. He wanted to stay in this room with all his father's old treasures.

"We'll be staying here a while then?" she asked tentatively.

"It seems as good an idea as any. We need someplace to plan, why not a house that belongs to me and that only I can unlock?"

"I was thinking the same thing, but I didn't know…" She bit her lip and Harry knew she'd wondered if he would want to stay. "We'll have to check the wards after we eat, but I think you're right, this would be a safe place. Oh, and if you don't want the master suite, I'm taking it," she said impishly.

"You can have it," he said, laying back against the pillows and stretching out the full length of the bed.

"Hermione!" Ron hollered from belong. "Come down here! You're never going to believe what I found!"

"I'd better get down there, but first I need to give you this," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a piece of parchment. "Ginny gave it to me before we left this morning."

"So she was avoiding me then," he said, almost to himself.

"I wouldn't know. She simply said she'd already said good-bye to you and Ron the night before, and would I please give this to you later today? Now I have, and I'd better get downstairs before Ron comes up and drags me down."

He stared at the letter apprehensively, waiting until she'd left the room to break the seal. _I suppose I should be glad she didn't have a way to send me a Howler,_ he thought glumly. _After the way I behaved last night, I would have deserved it._

"Dear Harry,

Have you stopped being an idiot yet?"

_Ah, that's a lovely start._

"I know you're sitting there wishing we hadn't kissed last night. No wait, you're wishing you hadn't kissed me, because you can't blame yourself if I was a willing participant. Poor ickle Ginny, she'll be confused by one kiss and she won't be able to handle Harry leaving….

Get over yourself. I kissed you because I wanted to, because I wanted to say good-bye on my terms. Yes, good-bye. I know very well that nothing changed last night. I told you then that I wasn't going to throw myself at your feet and beg to come with you, how come you think one kiss could make me forget that?"

Harry felt himself get a little indignant at her casual dismissal of the kiss they'd shared. _Just one kiss? Excuse me if I thought it might mean as much to you as it did to me…_

"And before you get huffy, I'm not saying it wasn't special. I'm just saying that I'm strong enough to be glad I have the memory.

I knew how you'd react as soon as you walked away. That's why I'm writing you this letter. If I come down to say good-bye, you'll try to apologize for kissing me… and Harry, if you did that, I'm afraid I'd have to hex you."

He rubbed his nose self-consciously, imaging what the infamous Bat-Bogey hex would have felt like.

"So that's the first reason for the letter: stop feeling guilty for kissing me.

Here's the second: I want to tell you about my wish."

He pushed himself up from his reclining position and sat with his back against the wall. Despite his teasing the night before, he was quite curious to know what she'd wished for, especially since she had offered to tell him. At the time, he'd been a little afraid that it was something about their relationship, but after reading the first half of the letter he doubted that was the case.

"I wished that the war would be over by my next birthday. I wanted to tell you because you're the only one that can make it come true. No, I wanted to tell you so you'll know I believe you will make it come true.

I know you doubt yourself Harry. You're not sure that you'll be able to pull off any part of your mission, and you're pretty sure Voldemort is going to kill you in the end."

He wasn't sure which was more surprising; her ability to read his mind, or the fact that she actually wrote out Voldemort.

"But I believe in you. You will win, if only because you're more stubborn than Tom. Of course, I'm more stubborn than either one of you, which is just one more reason why I need to be there with you at the end.

So go ahead and spend the year chasing him down. Just remember, macho men with Hungarian Horntails tattooed on their chests can take down evil Dark Lords any day of the week.

Ginny

PS: Please tell Ron and Hermione to stop bickering and start snogging."

The last two sentences made Harry laugh out loud. _Leave it to Ginny to end on a light note,_ he thought, folding the letter back up and putting it the drawer of the nightstand.

He stood up then and wandered down the stairs, curious to see what had Ron so excited. He could hear Hermione talking quickly and Ron's laughter, so he figured it must have been good.

He saw immediately what had made her so happy. With the exception of two floor to ceiling windows and a fireplace on one wall, the room was wall to wall books. There were four comfortable looking chairs in front of the fireplace and a large oak desk off to the left.

"We are definitely staying here," she said.

"D'ya like it?" Ron asked, pleased by the look on her face. "I saw it and thought of you."

"I love it," she declared, giving him a quick hug before running to the shelves and touching the spines lovingly. "I can't wait to see what books you have Harry, I bet there are some really rare volumes. Some of these look like they're over 500 years old!"

"Well you're welcome to study them all you want," Harry told her. "Maybe you'll find something that'll help us."

"Oh! Here's a whole section of defense books, I wonder if any of them mention how to destroy a Horcrux." Dumbledore hadn't had time to tell Harry how he'd done it, and the little bit of research they'd done so far had yielded nothing.

She started to pull a book off the shelf, but he stopped her. "Later. We need to get settled, eat dinner, and check the wards," he reminded her. "Don't worry, they'll still be here when we're done."

"And tomorrow, and the day after that," Ron teased when he saw her wistful expression. "Come on, you haven't shown me what you found. Anything interesting upstairs?"

"Just bedrooms," Harry said. "You can take your pick, but if you want the master, you'll have to fight Hermione for it."

"No reason to fight," Ron said, sticking his chest out. "She knows I'm the master."

"Ronald Weasley! Of all the chauvinistic… I don't believe you!"

"Why do you want that room anyway, Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to avoid a fight.

"It's really the bathroom I want," she said. "The room itself isn't bad either; the carpet must be almost an inch thick, my feet just sank down into it. I didn't test the bed, but it looks very comfortable. There's also a large closet, but I don't guess I'll need that.

"The bathroom is the nicest I've ever seen though! There are two sinks and a shower, and a bathtub that reminds me of the one in the prefects' bathroom, only smaller. It has all the same faucets for water and bubbles, I can't wait to be able to stretch out and take a bath." She sighed luxuriously, already imagining how nice the warm water would feel after today's long walk.

"Sounds girly," Ron said. "You can have it."

"Ron! There is nothing girly about taking a bath!"

"So easy to bait…" he said, shaking his head dolefully. "Sometimes it almost takes the fun out of it."

**A/N:** I should mention that this story is far from over... And I should thank my beta, Beth, for finding the errors I've missed.

I should also add a disclaimer. I do not, of course, own anything related to Harry Potter, nor am I making any money from this story.


	4. Chapter 4

I apologize for not posting this sooner. I had a death in the family.

**Chapter 4—On the Trail**

Days at The Kiln soon settled into a pattern—wake up, eat breakfast, ant then spend the whole day in the library looking for information on Horcruxes or discussing the memories. August passed quickly in this fashion, and their lack of progress left Harry frustrated. He couldn't help but feel like there was a clue here somewhere, something obvious that they'd missed.

He wasn't the only one that felt it. "Let's go over the memories one more time," Hermione said with little of her usual enthusiasm.

Ron groaned. "Can't we talk about something else?"

"This is important, Ron," she said wearily. "Harry can't kill Voldemort until we find all the Horcruxes."

"I know that," he said. "I just meant… can't we talk about another piece of the puzzle? The missing locket, the Ravenclaw thingy, how to destroy them… anything but those blasted memories again. You've even got notes on them!" he exclaimed, picking up a piece of parchment. "First memory: Morfin and Marvolo."

"She's right," Harry said, interrupting him before he could get up a good head of steam. "Professor Dumbledore showed me all those memories for a reason; we're missing something, I can feel it."

"Fine," Ron said resignedly. "So what are we looking for again?"

"A place," Hermione decided. "He must have hidden Hufflepuff's cup somewhere important to him, I bet it's somewhere in those memories. What were the places again?"

Harry ticked them off. "Marvolo's shack, but Dumbledore already found the ring there. South America—let's hope we don't have to leave England to find it. The cave, where we should have found the locket. I guess Hogwarts is a possibility, but I doubt he had time to conceal anything there. That's it."

"You're skipping one," Ron said. "The orphanage, remember?"

"Do you really think he would have hidden a piece of his soul someplace that reveals his lowly background?" Hermione questioned skeptically. "It seems to me that he would want to put it someplace that emphasizes his greatness—the ring was in the cottage of Slytherin's descendent, the locket was in a cave that took a lot of skill to find, but the orphanage just—"

"Shows how far he's come," Harry said, leaning forward in his seat. "Think about it: What better way to show how powerful you are now than to compare it with what you came from?"

"And hardly anyone knows he was an orphan," Ron added, sounding excited for the first time in days. "It'd be a great secret hiding place."

"There's just one problem," Harry said, sinking heavily back into his chair. "There must have been dozens of orphanages in London when Riddle was a child. How are we supposed to know which one to search?"

"Well that's simple," Hermione said. "I'll go to the library in town and do

some—"

"Research," Harry and Ron said in unison.

"Yes. I'm sure I'll be able to find the right one."

"How d'ya figure?" Harry asked. "All we know is that it was in London."

"That's not all we know," she countered. "From what you've said about the surroundings, I'd guess it was on the East End. Professor Dumbledore called the matron Mrs. Cole. Now how many East End orphanages do you think were run by a Mrs. Cole in the late 1930s?"

"Probably just one," he agreed.

"Exactly. I'll go to the library in the morning and look it up. Right now, I'm going to bed."

"Bed? But it's only…. It's 11:00?" Ron said.

"It is," she said as she stood up and went to the door. "I want to get an early start since I have to walk into town, so I'll probably be gone before you get up in the morning. I'll see you at lunch," she told them before leaving.

"Guess we'd better get some sleep too," Harry said, standing and pulling Ron to his feet.

"I can't believe she kept us there all night," he mumbled as they trudged up the stairs. "I think I've spent more time in the library this month then I did in six years at Hogwarts."

"Just be glad she did keep us. Without her, we wouldn't be nearly as close to finding a Horcrux."

"I guess so," Ron said, yawning as he opened his bedroom door. "G'night Harry."

"Night Ron."

Ron and Harry were sitting in the kitchen at noon the next day when Hermione walked in, an exultant expression on her face and a large bag in one hand. "I brought us lunch from the pub," she said, sitting the bag down on the table and pulling out pasties and three turnovers that looked to be apple. "Let's eat and I'll tell you what I learned."

"You found it then?" Harry said, picking up a pasty.

"I did. Home for Orphaned Children, 349 Parkview Road," she said proudly.

"How'd you find that so quickly?" Ron asked.

"It's all in how you ask the question," she explained smugly. "I told the librarian—who was much nicer than Madam Pince by the way—that I was researching my family tree and that one of my grandfathers—"

"Hang on, Ron said, turning green. "You told her You-Know-Who was your grandfather?"

"Not exactly. I couldn't very well say, 'Excuse me, I'm looking for the childhood home of an evil Dark wizard,' now could I? Anyway, I told her he was raised in a London orphanage, but I didn't know what it was called. She asked me what I did know, and after I told her, we looked a few things up and found it easily."

"Are you sure it's the right place?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes, I'm sure," she said grimly. "The building has been slated for demolition five times in the last 20 years, but every time they try to destroy it, someone on the work crew has a mysterious accident. Last time, the wrecking ball fell and killed three people. That was 7 years ago, no one has touched it since."

'Sounds like Tom's style of protection all right," Harry agreed. "So when do we go?"

"I'll have to look it up on my map of Apparition points and see which one is closest, but I think we can leave tomorrow."

"Aren't you both forgetting something?" Ron said. "We may know where it is, but we still don't know how to destroy it once we find it."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, chagrinned. "We were getting ahead of ourselves," Hermione admitted.

"But we haven't found anything saying how to destroy a Horcrux," Harry said. "I haven't even found a book that mentions Horcruxes."

"Well, we'll just have to look again then, won't we?" she said briskly. "There's got to be something. Dumbledore wouldn't have sent you on a pointless quest."

"Dumbledore didn't know he was going to die before he could tell me how to do it," Harry said fiercely.

"Even so, he must have learned the incantation somewhere," she said, cutting off his familiar rant against Snape. "We haven't even looked at a quarter of the defense books, it still might be in there."

"I suppose so," he said grudgingly.

"Then we're agreed," she said, going into the library. Ron and Harry looked at each other and shrugged; there didn't seem to be anything to do but follow her. They each picked a shelf and started scanning the titles. "Wait, you're doing it wrong!" she said. "You have to pull the book off the shelf and check the index."

"That'll take ages!" Ron said.

"You can't judge a book by the cover Ron, or by the title. The only way to make sure we don't miss something is to look at every single one."

Ron was right, it was a time-consuming process, but no matter how much the boys complained about being bored, Hermione refused to let them stop.

"Advanced Defense Techniques," Ron read 6 hours later. "How's this sound? Chapter 13: Why Horcruxes are Evil and What to Do With One If you Find It."

"Really?" she squealed, dropping her book and running to look over his shoulder.

"No, not really," he said. "You must be tired, I didn't think you'd fall for that."

She scowled and said, "That's not funny, Ron."

"C'mon Hermione," he said, snapping the book shut and returning it to the shelf. "It's almost 8:00. Can't we stop for the night?"

"The answer could be in the next book we look at," she protested, looking at the spines longingly.

"Which will still be here in the morning," Harry said. "We need to eat and get some sleep."

"And I need to beat you in a game of chess," Ron said. "It's been weeks since we've played."

"Oh all right," she said. "I'll go make dinner, you boys are helpless with cooking spells."

Two hours later, she was watching Ron engineer the last maneuver of his victory over Harry. "Good game," he said when Harry's king threw his crown down on the board. "Say, is this a new set? It doesn't look like the one you usually play with."

Harry put the pieces away and handed the wooden box to Ron. It was a little beaten up and looked like it had been well-used. "D. Potter," Ron said, reading the name engraved on the lid. "This was your grandfather's?"

"I found it in the desk when I was looking for… something," Harry said, hoping his friend didn't ask what he'd been looking for. Honestly, he didn't know how he would answer the question. In the first few days they'd been at there, he'd explored almost every inch of the house. He had just needed to feel connected to his past, but he wasn't sure he could explain that to Ron, who had lived at the Burrow all his life.

Luckily, Hermione spoke up before Ron could ask any questions. "That's wonderful Harry."

"Thanks," he said before stifling a yawn. "Are we done for the night?"

"I think so. I want to be back down here first thing."

"Hermione, you really know how to make sure someone sleeps in," Ron said. "'We have to get up early so we can spend the whole day in the library!'" he mimicked.

She bristled and said, "Well I'm sorry if I want to get this over with! If you have another way to find the right spell, please, speak up!"

"It's late and we're tired," Harry said, cutting off the argument before it got started. "Let's get some sleep."

Without waiting to see if they were coming, he turned and left the library and walked up the stairs. "Good night Great-Uncle Matthew," he said to one of the few portraits that wasn't already asleep.

"Good night, Harry," the older man said genially.

He'd become familiar with the faces of his ancestors lining the walls, learning their names when he introduced himself. All of them had been delighted to see a Potter at the Kiln again and talking to them had made him feel like he truly was a Potter, just like sleeping in the room at the end of the hall made him feel like he truly was his father's son.

As he had investigated his room, it had become clear that James had taken little more than his clothes with him when he left. From what Mrs. Trent had said about the way he left and never came back, he had deduced that the memories his treasures would have brought back were simply too painful. Perhaps if he had lived, he would have come back one day when the raw emotion had scabbed over.

Whatever the reason, having this window into his dad's life always gave Harry the feeling of a child who is loved by his parents. Since they had come to the Kiln, his sleep had come more easily and had been troubled by fewer nightmares than he was used to.

Tonight though he was unable to sleep. He lay on his side, staring at the clock as it ticked the minutes down until midnight. It was September 1 now, and for the first time in 7 years, he would not be joining his schoolmates on the Hogwarts Express. At 11:00, the train would pull away from Platform 9 ¾ without him, Ron, or Hermione.

Instead, it would carry a small number of students to a place where hopefully they would be safe. There would be no first years; McGonagall and the Order had agreed to wait a year to invite the new class, with the hope that the war would be over by then and life could go back to normal. In another twist, most of the 7th years were fighting in the war, on one side or the other. Several of the parents had opted to keep their children close to home, but at least one 6th year would be making the journey.

For a moment, he allowed himself to think of the bustle of activity that would take over the Burrow in a few hours. He supposed it probably wouldn't be as hectic, getting only one student to the station instead of four like there had been last year. The tension that had been present then would probably be even stronger, but the thought that some things didn't change comforted him and gave him a purpose. They had to find a way to destroy the Horcruxes so he could kill Voldemort. Letters would go out next year, he would make sure of it. Grabbing onto that thought, he finally managed to go to sleep.

That was his motivation the next day, and the day after that, when he went through the books with a dedication that made Hermione glow and Ron gape. "What's with you mate? You're doing more reading than Hermione!" Harry didn't answer, he simply picked up the next book and scanned it for any mention of Horcruxes.

Nine days had passed when he finally tossed a book down on the desk. "That's the last one," he said disgustedly. "We've looked at every single book in here, not one of them had anything to say about Horcruxes."

"We knew it was a long shot," Hermione soothed. "I doubt many decent Wizarding families would have books about something so Dark."

"So my family was good—that doesn't get us any closer to the answer."

"I say we just destroy the thing," Ron said.

"We're trying to figure out how to do that, Ron," Hermione said, shooting him a quelling look.

"No, I mean destroy the cup. Without it, Voldemort's soul wouldn't have a home, would it?"

"I don't think that would work."

"Why not?" Harry said. "It worked with the journal, didn't it?"

"Yes, but the journal wasn't protected by curses. Even if you could destroy the cup, the backlash of the magic surrounding it could cause serious damage."

"We'll use a shield then," Harry said, a plan forming in his mind. "And before you say it, I know you can't fire a spell from behind a shield. We'll have to give it the ol' one-two, as Uncle Vernon would say. I'll cast the Reductor charm to destroy the cup, and as soon as I do, the two of you put up a shield to protect us."

"I don't know…"

"Look, do you want to stop Voldemort or not? The only way I can kill him is if we get rid of all his Horcruxes first."

"I know that!"

"Then this is what we have to do. We don't have time to keep looking for a spell we may never find. Where's your map of Apparition points? We're going tonight."

Shortly before midnight, they Apparated into a dark alleyway in the East End of London. "According to my map, the orphanage is to the right," Hermione said, keeping her voice low as she led the way.

"I still don't see why we couldn't come during the day," Ron said, peering into the shadows and jumping slightly when the bells of Mary-le-Bone chimed the hour.

"Because Ron," Hermione said patiently, "we couldn't very well start poking around a building the locals think is haunted in the middle of the day."

"I know… and it's not that I'm afraid of the dark, I'd just rather have light if I'm going to search for a preserved bit of the soul of a Dark wizard."

"That's it," Harry said suddenly, pointing at a building across the street. The iron gates were hanging crookedly from the courtyard walls, protecting the same intuitional looking building he remembered seeing in the Pensieve.

"You're right," Hermione said after checking the house numbers. She glanced up and down the street, making sure it was deserted. When she was satisfied that it was, she motioned silently and they all walked across the street and into the courtyard, cautiously making their way to the boarded up door.

Anxious to get the job over with, Harry moved to pull one of the board off. "Wait!" Hermione hissed, grabbing his arm.

"What is it?" he asked, bewildered.

"You can't just pull those off willy-nilly," she said, dragging him back a few steps.

"What do you mean? We have to get through this door to get to the cup," he said, trying to move toward it again.

"Oh no you don't," she said, yanking hard on his arm. "You're not going through there until you listen to me—I'd like to live to see my 18th birthday, thank you very much."

When he just looked at her blankly, she rolled her eyes and said, "Remember the cave? The entrance was protected. This building is in the middle of London, and we know people have died trying to tear it down. Do you really think we can just walk in?"

"Then how are we supposed to get in?" Ron asked.

Instead of answering, she pulled out her wand and moved it slowly in front of the door. "We have to pull the boards off in a very specific order," she said finally. "Ron, you take that one on the right—yes, that's it. Now Harry, you remove the one in front of you—no, the one above that one." She smoothly directed their movements, and when the last board was loose, the door swung open.

"How'd you know that?" Ron asked as they stepped into the dank smelling building.

"While we were searching for a spell, I found a book called Breaking Down Dark Walls. Based on what Harry had told us about the cave, I thought it might prove useful."

"You're brilliant, you know that right?" Ron said almost reverently.

"Thank you." Though the light from their wands was dim, Harry strongly suspected Hermione was blushing.

"Where d'you suppose the cup is?" he wondered.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I think we're going to have to search for it. Why don't you take the sitting room, I'll go—"

"No. We're not splitting up, that's not safe at all," Harry said firmly. "We'll all start by searching the sitting room together."

Harry was struck with a strange sense of déjà vu when they entered the small room. _Professor Dumbledore sat here,_ he thought, standing in one corner of the room, _and Mrs. Cole was over there._ The conversation he'd seen came back to him in a rush.

"Billy Stubb's rabbit… well, Tom said he didn't do it and I do see how he could have done, but even so, it didn't hang itself from the rafters, did it?"

A quick glance up confirmed that the rafters weren't visible. He wandered into the entryway and up the stairs, staring at the ceiling the whole way. "It's not here," he muttered. "It must be in the attic."

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Hermione asked.

He looked behind him, surprised. "You followed me up here?"

"You were the one that said it was too dangerous to split up, of course we did."

"Right… I think we need to check the attic." Ron and Hermione looked at him strangely, so he tried to explain. "Tom once strung another boy's rabbit up in the rafters. Since the cave was where he tortured those two kids…"

"He does seem to be drawn back to the scenes of his crimes," Hermione agreed.

"Course he is," Ron said. "I reckon the place is just as much a trophy to him as anything else he collects." 

"The attic then," Harry said. "Hermione, would you mind conjuring a lantern for us?" She frowned and half closed her eyes while moving her wand, and soon a light shone brightly, throwing shadows on the walls. "Thanks," he said, leading the way up the stairs.

When they reached the door to the attic, Harry stopped and said, "We should probably check for any more traps," gesturing to Hermione who nodded and quickly repeated the same procedure she'd used on the front door.

"These are just wards, but there's something odd here," she said. "Take a look, Harry."

Both Ron and Harry knew how to check wards, so they looked at them together. "Some kind of key and locking mechanism," Ron said a moment later.

"It's blood," Harry said, his voice flat. He had been expecting this—in some ways, it was encouraging to know that Voldemort was such a predictable foe. He withdrew a knife from his robes and sliced his finger before either of his friends could stop him. When he touched the door knob with his bleeding hand, the door opened effortlessly.

"You should have let one of us do it, Harry," Hermione admonished him. "Your blood is too important."

"The last person who said that to me died," he snapped. "From now on, if there's blood to be shed in this war, it'll be mine."

Before she could argue, they reached the attic, which was just a large, empty room with windows on both ends. The floor was coated with a thick layer of dust; it was evident no one had been here for many years.

The rafters were only a few feet from the peaked roof, well out of reach. "How are we going to get up there?" Harry mumbled to himself.

"Let me try something," Hermione offered, sounding a little uncertain. Her face scrunched up into the same concentrated frown she had worn when she'd conjured the lamp, and a moment later they were staring at a ladder. "Oh good, I wasn't sure it would work," she said, relieved. "I've done lights before, but this was new."

"Here, I'll climb up and see if I can find it," Ron said, positioning the ladder in the middle of the room. He took the lantern from Hermione and scrambled up the ladder, looking around at the ceiling. "I see it!" he said, climbing back down and picking the ladder up. After moving it several feet to the left, he went up again and came down with the cup in hand and a triumphant expression on his face.

"Are we ready?" Harry asked, looking at them both.

"I think we need to take it back to The Kiln and destroy it there, Harry—just because Voldemort hasn't checked on his Horcruxes before doesn't mean he won't tonight. That'd be our luck actually," Hermione said. "Besides, if one of us is injured, we won't be able to Apparate."

Harry wanted to argue, but he knew she was right. "Fine. Shall we go then?"

She shook her head. "We can't Disapparate from here. When I was checking for charms on the front door, I noticed a strong anti-Apparition ward. We'd splinch ourselves." 

"Back to the Apparition point then," he said, leading the way downstairs and through the door.

Back on the street, Harry was surprised to see a faint hint of light in the eastern sky. _It doesn't seem like we were here long enough for the sun to be rising, _he thought. _I guess it did take quite a bit of time to get into the building though._

"I'll see you there," he said when they reached the alleyway.

When he opened his eyes, he could see the soft glow of sunrise behind the house. Hermione was already there and Ron Apparated a moment later.

"All right. Now are we ready?" he asked, glaring at Hermione, daring her to argue. They both nodded and he set the cup down on the ground. "I'll cast my spell on the count of three, as soon as I say it, you put up the shield," he directed. "1, 2, 3, _Reducto!_"

It seemed like he heard three things at once: a loud explosion, two voices yelling, _"Protego!"_ almost simultaneously, and Hermione's scream. He saw the cup blow into little bits seconds before he felt the magical shockwave hit the shield. When it dissipated, he turned to his left. Hermione was crumpled on the ground and Ron was already kneeling beside her.

"What happened?" he asked while a pale-faced Ron picked her up and carried her to the house. He hurried in front of him to open the door and watched him set her down gently on a couch in the seldom-used living room.

"I'm not sure," Ron said shakily. "I think she was just a split second late casting the shield. Look, a piece of the cup hit her here," he said, pointing to a cut bleeding on her forehead. "D'you think she'll be all right?"

Before Harry could answer, she moaned and put a hand on her forehead, her eyes fluttering open. "Did it work?" she asked hoarsely.

"It did," Harry assured her. "We're more concerned about you though. Were you hit by the curse?"

She shook her head slowly, wincing at the pain that caused. "No, I had my shield up before that. I was just knocked out by… something."

"A piece of the cup hit you," Ron told her, his smile wan.

"Oh."

Then Harry asked the question that had been bothering him since they'd returned home. "I've been wondering how come there weren't as many layers of protection on this Horcrux."

"I think there were plenty," she said sardonically, rubbing her forehead again.

"Right," he said, shifting awkwardly.

"I know what you mean though," she said while she sat up on the couch. "My guess is that he put this one in place first and just wasn't as paranoid. Either that or he didn't care if it was found. He did have six others after all, and he was pretty careless with the diary as well."

"I suppose that's as good a guess as any. Now I don't know about you, but I'm going to get some sleep."

"I'll help you upstairs, Hermione," Ron offered immediately.

Harry watched his two friends slowly make their way to the first floor. _Something's going to change there,_ he realized, observing the careful way Ron guided her steps. _I just wonder how much longer it's going to take._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5—The Waiting Game**

The initial excitement of their success wore off after a few weeks. True, they had found and destroyed the third Horcrux, leaving only three before Voldemort could be killed. However, they had also exhausted their only lead and there was a certain feeling of, "What do we do now?"

Hermione had referenced and cross-referenced the notes she'd taken on the memories with the information she'd found in various books in the Potter library. No matter how many times she looked over them, all she was left with was a missing locket and the 6th unidentified object.

"Maybe if we do this," she said as she shifted her parchment around one October afternoon.

"No! No more maybes and suppositions!" Ron exclaimed. "We've been at this for weeks and we haven't found anything!"

Harry groaned quietly. This was the fifth time in as many days that Ron had complained about their lack of progress, and it was definitely not doing anything to alleviate the tension they were all feeling. He and Hermione were arguing everyday. If they didn't find a way to keep his mouth shut, their friendship might not last until the end of the war.

His frustration made sense, but when he caught the pacifying look on Hermione's face, he knew she still didn't understand. "We have to keep looking, Ron," she said with that irritating calmness she used when she thought one of the boys was being stupid.

"Looking for what, Hermione? A stolen locket? We don't even know if it still exists! Maybe R.A.B. managed to destroy it himself. Or are we looking for something without knowing what we're looking for? At least when you look for a needle in a haystack, you know you're looking for a needle!"

"What do you suggest Ron?" Hermione snapped. "Should we just give up and concede the battle to Voldemort now?"

To his credit, Ron didn't even flinch at the name Voldemort. Instead, he glared at her and said, "What I _suggest_ is that we let our brains rest before they get worn out. This is just as bad as too much studying!"

Hermione's eyes flashed and she went nose to nose with Ron. "Your brain could use some wearing out," she informed him coldly. "It's practically brand-new! And besides, what would you know about studying too much?" she asked, punctuating the 'you' with a sharp poke in his chest.

Ron let his breath out in a hiss and turned on heel, marching out of the library. A moment later, the front door slammed shut. "That wasn't very fair," Harry told Hermione quietly.

"I wasn't be fair?" she repeated shrilly. "Well maybe I wasn't, but he's been horrid to me for the last three weeks. He had it coming," she announced.

He couldn't argue that—Ron had been baiting her lately. He had a hunch though that he was doing it to keep his distance from Hermione. He had recognized the cold fear on Ron's face when he'd carried an unconscious Hermione into the house after they'd destroyed the cup. However, he couldn't very well say, "He's scared stiff that you're going to die and he won't be able to handle it." Like so many times over the last three years, he found himself in the middle of their fight, and like always, silence was his course of action.

Hermione however was clearly waiting for a reply and when he didn't say anything, she huffed indignantly and said, "Boys." She stomped out of the room and up the stairs, leaving Harry wondering exactly what he was supposed to have done.

Sighing, he stood up from his chair by the fireplace and followed Ron outside, grabbing a jacket on the way out. He found him slouched on the garden bench, kicking at the dirt. "She's impossible," he muttered.

"You've been saying variations of that for six years," Harry pointed out mildly while he sat down next to him.

"I mean it this time! Telling me my brain is unused…"

"She didn't exactly say that," Harry protested.

"Oh no, she said it's 'practically brand-new.' That makes me feel so much better."

"You were baiting her, Ron. You've been purposely making her angry." He cut off Ron's sputtering with a wave of his hand. "You have, and it has to stop. This whole plan will fall apart around us if we're not talking to each other—and by talking, I don't been yelling."

Ron opened his mouth to argue, then shut it; slumping against the slats on the back of the bench. "I know," he agreed glumly. "What am I going to do though? I can't seem to stop…. I open my mouth and these awful, mean things just come out."

Harry considered for a moment before saying, "Don't talk to her then."

"But you just said we had to be talking."

"I should have said 'on speaking terms.' Let's face it mate, if you don't keep your mouth shut, you won't be."

"So what are you going to do, gag me until we're ready to go after the next Horcrux?"

"Don't tempt me," Harry jibed. "No, I was thinking more along the lines of keeping your mouth shut for a reason."

"I thought the reason was to keep Hermione from killing me before You-Know-Who has a chance."

"Another reason then," Harry amended. "Like the two of us finally mastering non-verbal spells."

Ron gave him a measured stare. "You didn't just come up with that," he said. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

Harry's mind traveled back quickly to the night Dumbledore died. "Blocked again and again until you learn to keep you mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter." Snape's words—the thought that he might have been able to save his mentor if he'd learned non-verbal spells—haunted him. "Since June," he said finally, seeing a glimmer of recognition in Ron's eyes.

"I guess we need to figure it out, and it's something to do. Hey, can we keep it a secret from Hermione? She's always so smug, it'd be brilliant if we could just surprise her with our prowess."

"I think we can do that," Harry said with a grin. "There are some empty rooms in the back half of the first floor, we can use one of them."

Breakfast the next morning was eaten in a strained silence. As soon as Hermione was done eating, she walked down the hall toward the library, tossing a single disdainful look over her shoulder before shutting the door firmly behind her.

"Like we'd want to join you anyway," Ron said bitterly.

"Come on Ron," Harry said, standing up and pushing him toward the stairs. "Let's see what we can find up here."

"What's back here anyway?" Ron asked as they walked down the second hallway that led to the back half of the house.

"Servants' quarters," Harry told him, opening the first door and looking in.

"Servants' quarters?" Ron repeated, a funny look on his face.

Harry tossed him a half exasperated look. "Yes, servants. Did you think a home the size of The Kiln ran itself, even with magic? There was probably a cook and a few maids… I'm just glad there wasn't a House-elf waiting for us when we arrived."

"Hermione would have gone mental," Ron said, grinning at the thought.

"Probably would have made me rescind my membership in S.P.E.W.," Harry agreed.

"Harry," Ron said solemnly, "I reckon you ought to get yourself a House-elf."

"Stop being such a prat and tell me if you think this room will work."

Ron surveyed the room. It was smaller than the ones in the main part of the house. There was a single bed and a small wardrobe along one wall and a writing table and chair under the window, leaving most of the floor space empty. "The room seems fine but…."

"But what?" Harry prodded when he just left the sentence hanging.

"I'm not so sure about this to be honest," Ron said, shifting uneasily. "We were supposed to learn non-verbal spells last year and we never did. What if we can't do it? Does it really make a difference?"

"If I'd known how to cast a spell without speaking, I might have been able to disarm Snape before he killed Professor Dumbledore. Do you think it's important?" Ron nodded. "And I don't know about you, but part of the reason I couldn't do it last year was because he was the one trying to teach us. I could probably count on one hand all the things I actually managed to learn from that git."

"Good point," Ron said, pulling out his wand. "So where do we begin?"

Harry frowned, trying to remember what Snape had said. "Concentration and mind power."

"Right… but what does that mean?"

"Try closing your eyes and picturing what you want to happen," Harry suggested.

Ron suddenly turned pale, remember something else from their first experience with silent magic. "Uh…. Harry? We're not going to start with hexes, are we?"

"He always did expect us to jump into magic feet fist, didn't he? We didn't start really learning hexes until 3rd or 4th year—I say we try something from 1st year."

"You wouldn't be suggesting what I think you are, would you?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Levitation," Harry confirmed, pulling two feathers from his pocket.

"Well at least I won't need to worry about pronouncing it right," Ron said, rolling up his sleeves and pointing his wand at a feather.

Three hours later, he was stretched out on the floor, staring at his feather as he tried to make it float. Harry had succeeded 20 minutes ago and was lying down as well, straining to see a hint of air between Ron's feather and the floor. "I think you've got it," he said at last when the feather lifted a bare inch into the air.

"About time too! I'm starving. Do you think we can take the afternoon off, Harry? Pick up again tomorrow morning?"

"Sounds good."

Harry bypassed the kitchen and stuck his head in the library. "Making any progress?" he asked Hermione.

She glanced at him over the top of the book she was reading, one eyebrow arched. "Oh, so you are interested."

He flopped into a chair and shoved his hands into his hair. "Look, I'm just trying to keep you and Ron from killing each other, all right?"

"Fine," she huffed. "What did you boys do all morning anyway?"

"Ah… that's kind of a surprise," he hedged.

"All right," she said, surprising him with her acceptance. "Look, I found something for you."

Harry stood up and took the little book she was waving in front of him. "At Your Fingertips: An Essay in Wandless Magic," he read aloud. "What's this for?"

"I would have thought that would be obvious," she said, rolling her eyes. "You can't use your wand on Voldemort."

"But I thought wandless magic was… impossible."

"Apparition is wandless magic," she reminded him. "Anyway, the idea isn't to fight him entirely without a wand, but if you could just disarm him…"

"I might have a chance," he said slowly. "Thanks, Hermione."

The next morning, he and Ron returned to the unused room. "What are we going to try today?" Ron asked.

"The second spell we learned—thanks to Hermione—was _Alohomora_. I thought we could take turns locking each other in the room to practice that one. It would give us a chance to work on _Colloportus_ at the same time."

"I thought the point of casting silent spells was to give you an advantage over your opponent," Ron said, raising an eyebrow. "Shouldn't we be working on Defense spells?"

"It took us all morning yesterday just to levitate a feather," Harry said. "Why don't we stay with the simple things today and move on to basic Defense tomorrow? You can go first."

"Doubt it'll help me any," Ron muttered, closing the door and waiting for Harry to lock it.

His tight smile soon changed into a wide grin when it took him only 30 minutes to unlock the door and then just 15 to lock Harry in. "I think I'm getting the hang of this!" he said an hour later, when they were both able to lock and unlock the door with ease.

"Course you are! It's not that difficult after all—it just takes concentration and mind power."

Ron cuffed him, laughing when Harry easily dodged the blow. "Say, do you think we're ready for Disarming spells tomorrow?" he asked eagerly.

"Sure, why not?"

The rest of October passed quickly as they spent mornings learning non-verbal spells. Once they mastered the art and were able to apply it to advanced Defense skills, they staged a duel for Hermione, who quickly forgot about the hard feelings she'd been harboring toward them.

"I knew you could do it, if you just applied yourselves," she praised, giving them both a quick hug.

"It was just a matter of mind over Snape," Ron said, blushing fiercely.

"What?"

"Snape implied that we couldn't do it. Once we decided not to let that git tell us what we're capable of, it was actually easy," Harry said.

For the first time in almost two weeks, the three shared a meal that wasn't silent and uncomfortable. As always, the tension between Ron and Hermione simply evaporated in the warmth of good feelings, and Harry just enjoyed the easy banter with his two best friends.

Harry rose early the next morning, taking care not to wake Ron or Hermione as he ate a quick breakfast before stepping out into the October chill. It was Halloween, the day he'd been dreading and anticipating since arriving in Godric's Hollow. For the first time in his life, he would be able to visit his parents' grave on the anniversary of their deaths.

The wind gusting off the moor hit him full force and he walked quickly to the cemetery, where he would at least be protected by the trees. There definitely weren't enough for it to be called a forest or even a wood, but the small stand of maple trees was enough to entice a boy to play, and Harry had often pictured his father hanging from a branch or hiding behind a trunk as he snuck up on an unsuspecting victim.

For all his walking, he'd never really given the copse more than a cursory glance—if he was here, he was usually visiting the cemetery. Today, however, he wasn't quite ready to see the names on the grave stone. Instead, he turned toward the trees and soon his feet were crunching noisily on a thick layer of fallen leaves and he was surrounded by the crisp smell of autumn. One tree still had a lonely leaf hanging from a twig, and when he reached up to pull it off, something caught his eye.

There were two sets of initials carved into the trunk. The first was DP & EJ, which he assumed belonged to his grandparents. His grandfather's name was Daniel, he remembered. The others he knew as well as his own: JP & LE.

Moving closer, he placed his hand over his parents' initials. He had thought he'd discovered all the secrets the house and ground kept, but it seemed there were still surprises left to be found. With each new revelation, a layer of his parents' past was unveiled for him. Seeing their grave had made them real, and he had gotten to know his father by sleeping in his room and reading his Quidditch books, with their excellent notes. This showed him their relationship.

Despite the assurances from Remus and Sirius, he had still wondered how much she had really loved him. Everyone he had talked to agreed that James had been simply crazy about Lily, but he had no real proof that she had felt the same. After his own abbreviated relationship, this had bothered him even more.

Now he had that proof. LE had been carved by someone with a sure hand. The strokes were deep and fairly even, as opposed to the soft scratching that marked JP. That had been done by his mother, he felt sure.

For awhile he wondered when she had visited his father here. Had she come home with him that summer after graduation? Was she able to meet the couple who would have been her in-laws, if they hadn't died shortly after? Did she comfort him after the death of his parents, just as Ginny had comforted him after Dumbledore's?

The initial satisfaction he'd felt when he found the tree disappeared. Dumbledore was dead, his parents were dead, and he didn't have anyone to make it easier for him. All he had was a scar on his forehead and the knowledge that if he didn't kill Voldemort, Voldemort would kill him and everyone he cared about.

"This is what today is about," he said, walking to the cemetery and laying the bunch of red carnations he'd conjured on their grave. "Remus told me you died to keep me alive," he said as he knelt in front of the stone, placing the flowers on the cold earth. The juxtaposition of the vibrant red against the austere grey of the headstone hit him hard, and he had to choke back tears before continuing. "He just didn't know what you were keeping me alive for," he finished before rising and turning away.

The late October sun shone on Harry as he walked back to the house, his task complete. "Remus was right, dying would be a pretty poor way to repay you for your sacrifice. I promise, I'll do my best to get rid of Voldemort so you won't have died for nothing."

When he entered the house, he heard a strange sound coming from above stairs. All thoughts of sacrifice were driven away by his danger instinct, and he drew his wand before silently creeping up the stairs. The sound seemed to be coming from the servants' quarters. He followed it down the hallway, gripping his wand a little tighter when he saw an open door.

He didn't know what he'd expected to see, but it certainly wasn't Ron, kneeling beside a prone Hermione, mumbling about how sorry he was. A quick glance around the room showed not a Death Eater, but an empty wardrobe. Harry relaxed—it was a boggart.

Wand ready, he stepped in front of it, prepared to picture the Dementor hanging from a clothes line like yesterday's dirty laundry. Instead, the figure changed only slightly and the bushy brown hair turned red and straight. Casting around wildly for a way to make Dead Ginny humorous, he remember a poster he'd once seen stapled to an electric pole. Fixing it in his mind, he shouted, "_Riddikulus!"_

Instantly, Ginny's hair morphed into a frizzy afro and her face was painted white with an exaggerated, bright red mouth. His laughter was half hysterical, half relief, but it t was enough to banish the boggart and he sank weakly to the floor next to Ron.

"What was that?" Ron asked.

"A clown…. Muggle thing," Harry explained, leaning against the wall. "Anyway, why'd you come back here?"

"I heard the rattling, figured it was a boggart. Thought I could take care of it," he added, flushing and looking away. "Didn't know it would be… that."

Harry raised an eyebrow. _He_ wasn't surprised Hermione was his boggart, but he decided not to mention that. However…. "You've got to tell her, mate," he said seriously.

"Tell her what?" Ron asked, picking at a piece of string on his robes.

"That you're in love with her!" Harry exclaimed, tired of constantly avoiding the subject. "Come on, you almost lost her last month, and don't think I don't know that it has you tied up in knots. Do you really want her to die without knowing how you feel?"

"You're one to talk," Ron retorted.

Harry drew back as if bitten. "Ginny knows I care," he said, his voice quiet but holding a hint of steel. "I'm staying away to keep her safe, what's your excuse?" When Ron didn't answer, he said, "Hermione is in danger whether you tell her or not Ron, but you're making the both of you miserable."

He was ready to beat the truth into him, but Ron surprised him by sighing and saying, "I know."

"Then why don't you talk to her?"

"I'm scared, all right? Being in love is scary!"

"As much as the thought of losing her?" Harry asked pointedly.

"I…. No. Not that scary," Ron said. He rose to his feet, a determined glint in his eye. "Not nearly that scary," he said as he left the room.

Harry listened to him walk away and then call to her from the top of the stairs. "Hermione! Where are you?" He couldn't hear her reply but he would have wagered all the gold in his vault that she was in the library. That was confirmed when he heard Ron say, "Get your nose out of that book, we're going for a walk."

He waited until the front door shut before he went back to his room. _Ginny—my boggart is Ginny,_ he thought, laying down on his bed.

It wasn't surprising really. He had broken up with her because he was afraid of getting her killed, after all. Of course that would be the thing he was most afraid of. He hadn't been expecting it though, and the shock, the cold fear, still pumped through his veins and he found himself wondering if it had been just a boggart, or if it might have been real.

Before they'd left the Burrow, he had discussed contact protocol with the rest of the Order. They'd all agreed that it would be safest for them to drop off the face of the earth. Remus had Hedwig and would send her if there was an emergency. Beyond that, there would be no letters between the trio and their friends and family. He knew the reasons, it had been his call, but right now he wanted nothing more than a letter assuring him Ginny was alive.

Rolling onto his side, he opened the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a piece of parchment. He had resisted the urge to re-read this before, not wanting to be distracted by her, but now… desperate times call for desperate measures.

"I wished that the war would be over by my next birthday…. I believe in you…."

He read the words over and over until he fell into a fitful sleep, filled with dreams that were haunted by two very similar looking couples. Both men wore glasses and had messy dark hair, and the ladies with them had gorgeous red hair. He smiled when first one couple and then the other carved their initials into the smooth trunk of a red maple, and then he watched in horror when men in dark cloaks and white masks appeared from nowhere and killed them all. He stared at the bodies and walked slowly to the red head with lifeless brown eyes.

Just before he picked her up, he jerked awake, squinting in the twilight. Something was making a noise at his window. Picking up his wand, he whispered, "_Lumos,"_ illuminating the room enough that he could walk without tripping over something. He started to walk toward the window, then stopped, dread building in the pit of his stomach when he saw what had woken him. An owl was hovering just outside the window. Remus had sent Hedwig.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Nightmares**

Harry opened the window numbly, his nightmare still fresh in his mind. Hedwig waited patiently while he untied the letter from her leg and then perched on his shoulder, hooting a soft greeting in his ear.

He stared at the piece of parchment for a long moment, unsure if he wanted to unroll it and read what was sure to be bad news. _It must be important if Remus sent Hedwig,_ he finally realized, opening it reluctantly to read the message.

He read the short paragraph once and then a second time, his brow creased in puzzlement. Then he put it in his pocket and started shoving all his belongings in his bag, calling for Ron and Hermione as he did so.

"What is it Harry?" she asked when they walked in a scant 30 seconds later.

"Yeah mate, you were hollering to bring the house down," Ron added, a touch of concern in his voice.

Harry barely noticed that he held Hermione's right hand in his left. He tossed them the letter and watched as they read it together. He saw the same mix of confusion and worry he felt mirrored on their faces and said, "I'm not sure what it means either, but we have to go. How quickly can you be packed?"

"Give us five minutes," Hermione answered, folding the letter and giving it back to him.

He waited anxiously at the foot of the stairs, looking at his watch every 20 seconds and re-reading the letter a dozen times. It had given more question than it had answered, and he needed to hear the rest of the story.

"Ready?" he asked when Ron and Hermione joined him. they nodded and Harry opened the door. "You both saw the coordinates?" the nodded again and he said, "Right then… I'll see you there," and Disapparated.

When he opened his eyes, he was looking at the one place he hated more than 4 Privet Drive—12 Grimmauld Place. He heard two pops behind him and led the way across the street. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and walked inside.

He tensed, waiting for Mrs. Black's portrait to begin her scathing diatribe, but no sound came from the wall next to him. Looking over, he saw that the painting had been removed.

"Alastor managed to take that down several months ago," someone to his right said.

Harry turned around and saw Remus standing in the living room. "Hello Harry, thank you for coming so quickly."

"What's going on, Remus? Your message was pretty cryptic. I'm assuming no one had died…?" _Surely he would have mentioned that,_ he though, reminding himself of the one thing that had kept him from going crazy.

"Was I cryptic?" Remus asked, surprised.

Harry pulled the now slightly wrinkled letter from his pocket and read it aloud. "Dear Harry: Something has happened, we need all three of you back at headquarters immediately. –Moony"

"Ah…. I suppose I was in such a hurry that I left out the details. There's been a breakout at Azkaban."

"Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"And others."

"Why did you need us here?" Ron asked. "We were safe at Harry's place, he's the only one who can open the doors."

Remus lifted his eyebrows before nodding slowly. "So you found the house, eh? Yes, I remember your father mentioning that special locking charm."

"You did know about the house then," Harry stated, not surprised.

"I spent half my school holidays there," he said. "Your grandparents loved having your father's friends visit; Evelyn especially was an excellent hostess. I'm sorry for not telling you before, but Dumbledore…"

"Was afraid I'd run off," Harry finished. "I figured that out, and it's all right. Just tell me, do I have any other land or random bits of inheritance I ought to know about?"

"There is one thing that I imagine has made its way into your vault now that you're of age," Remus said, a slight smile on his face.

"Aren't we forgetting something?" Hermione interrupted. "You still haven't told us why we're here."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Misdirection, Moony?"

"A little," he admitted. "But before I can answer your questions, I promised Molly I would bring you into the kitchen for dinner."

"Mum's here?" Ron asked eagerly, dropping his bag and heading toward the kitchen.

Remus gestured for Harry and Hermione to go as well before answering. "All Order members have been living here for over a month. Things are just getting too dangerous and we're too well-known to Voldemort for us to be safe anywhere else. Luckily the house is big enough for all of us to live here comfortably."

Anything else they might have said was cut off when they entered the kitchen and were instantly engulfed in one of Molly's hugs. "It's so good to see you again, safe and sound," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "I see you've actually been eating, I was worried you'd be wasted away."

"I remembered the cooking spells you showed me, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said.

"Her beef stew doesn't compare to yours though, Mum," Ron said, sniffing at the pot bubbling on the stove.

"Oh you! Sit down and I'll serve you—you too Remus. Just remember," she warned him as she set bowls of steaming stew on the table, "you're not to discuss the details with them until after they've eaten."

"Yes Molly," Remus said meekly, taking his seat.

"Good," she said, nodding in satisfaction. "Here's a loaf of bread, I'm going to upstairs to wait for Arthur to get back. I hope he isn't too much longer, he still has to be at work in the morning."

"Dad's out?" Ron asked Remus through a mouthful of bread.

"Yes, he and your brothers are all at Azkaban, looking for some clue as to where the fugitives might have gone. And that's the last I'll say until we've all eaten," he added, holding up his hand to forestall any questions. "I gave my word, and your mother is a frightening person when she's angry."

"Can I ask about something else then?" Harry questioned.

"As long as it has nothing to do with official Order business."

"Why didn't you tell me about the house before we left in August? I know why Hermione kept quiet—"

"You knew?" Remus asked, looking at her.

"I read about it one of my books on Godric's Hollow," she said. "I wasn't sure if it was still there though and I didn't want Harry to be disappointed."

"That was very wise and considerate. I believe I was influenced by the teacher in me. I wanted you to find it for yourself."

"What?" Harry asked blankly.

"You were setting off on a very serious mission, and I wanted you to understand a part of magic they don't teach at Hogwarts."

"But what if he hadn't found it?" Ron protested, putting his spoon down.

"Oh, I had no doubt that he would. That's what I'm trying to tell you. There's something about a home where your family has lived that just calls to a wizard's blood. Think about it," he continued, seeing the disbelieving looks he was getting. "How did Harry even know his parents died in Godric's Hollow?"

"Someone must have mentioned it to him," Ron said.

"We all talked about it before you left, none of us can remember ever mentioning the town by name. Dumbledore worked too hard to keep your family home from you—to keep you where you were safe—for me to believe he told you. How did you know, Harry?"

Harry looked at him, his mouth hanging open. "I… I don't know," he stammered. "I remember reading about Godric's Hollow in some books—"

"Maybe that's it," Hermione interrupted. "I know the town was named in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the 20th Century_, all the books that talk about your first defeat of Voldemort. You must have read about Godric's Hollow there."

Harry grimace. "No, I never read those entries. I don't like hearing about how I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, you know that. I uh… Godric's Hollow was mentioned in one of my Quidditch books." He blushed a little when Ron and Remus started laughing. "Anyway, I had a name… and somehow, when I decided I wanted to visit my parents' graves, it just… came to me."

"How is that possible?" Hermione asked.

"It's a very old form of magic, Hermione," Remus said. "Not as old as the protection Lily gave Harry, but old nonetheless. Sometimes a wizard's—or witch's—brain subconsciously makes connections with pieces of knowledge they wouldn't logically know go together. It's actually how some of the earliest spells were created."

"Is that how he knew that he could just walk into the house without a key?" Ron asked.

"That would make sense," Remus said. "Now, if we're all done eating, we can go back to the living room and I'll tell you what we know."

When they were all settled around the fireplace, he began. "The attack came just before dawn, when the guard was changing. You know Aurors have been guarding Azkaban since the Dementors defected to Voldemort?"

Harry nodded and said, "Tonks wasn't hurt, was she?"

The lines around Remus' face tightened. "No, thank God," he said fervently. "She's still on Hogwarts duty."

"Were there casualties?" Hermione asked.

"Half of the Aurors are dead, the other half is in St. Mungo's. That's not the reason we called you here though. We needed to make sure Harry heard about this from us, so we could keep him from going after them."

"Why would he do that?" Ron asked.

Harry understood immediately. "It was Snape, wasn't it?" He didn't wait for Remus to confirm it before launching into a rant. "It was Snape, and you wanted to make sure I wouldn't go after him. Ickle Harry, has to be protected… I'm of age, and you still don't trust me!"

"It has nothing to do with trust, Harry," Remus said calmly. "We're trying to think long-term. There will be plenty of time to kill Snape later. Believe me, you won't get any argument from me when the time is right." The vicious look on his face was almost wolfish, before he eased back into the level-headed professor they were all familiar with. "There are more important things to do right now though, Dumbledore knew that and gave you a job. I don't know exactly what you're doing, but I know the best way you can honor his memory is to honor his wishes, and he wanted you to focus on the task at hand."

"So I can't take a break and hunt down Snape?" Harry pressed.

"No. There's something else…. We think Voldemort sent Snape to taunt you, Harry—to pull you out of safety. If you go after him now, chances are it's a trap. We can't take that chance."

"I hate letting him call the shots."

"I know, but it's the best thing right now."

Harry stared at the fire, a scowl set firmly on his face. "Harry, look at me," Remus ordered. When he finally complied, he said, "I need you to promise you won't go looking for him."

Harry glared balefully at him and said, "I promise. Now if we're through here, I'm going to take my protected self up to bed—wouldn't want Voldemort to catch me on less than eight hours of sleep, would we?" he snarled, stomping up the stairs.

He stopped when he reached the first floor, realizing that he'd automatically been heading to the room he'd occupied the last two times he'd stayed there—a room he didn't know was empty. Remus had said most of the Order was living there, maybe someone was already asleep in his old room.

He walked down the hall a little more quietly and knocked on the door. No one answered, so he opened it slowly and looked in. There were no signs that anyone was living there, so he went in and shut the door behind him.

The room was hauntingly familiar and brought back a wave of memories he'd been fighting since he'd stepped through the front door. This was Sirius' house, and he was struck with a powerful loneliness for his godfather.

"Sirius wouldn't have wanted to just let Snape go," he muttered, sitting on the bed and staring out the window.

Hatred swelled inside him when he though about Snape, pulling the strings of the Order like a puppet master. "It isn't fair!" he growled, slamming his fist into a pillow. "Sirius is dead, Dumbledore is dead, and I have to let Snape run around the countryside with all of his Death-Eater friends!"

For one wild moment he considered sneaking out and going after him. The thought of finally getting his revenge for years and mistreatment and his mentor's murder made his blood sing in his veins, but as quickly as the thought came, he shoved it aside. "You promised Remus," he reminded himself.

Heaving a sigh, he resigned himself to life on Grimmauld Place. He kicked his shoes off and stretched out on the bed, the emotions still churning in him as he drifted off into a restless sleep before he'd even taken off his robes.

**AN: **I want to thank everyone who's left such wonderful comments. You're really encouraging me as I continue working on the story. Also, a huge thanks to Beth, who's helping me give the story the polish it needs.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **I apologize for the delay, and for the problems with the other chapters. They were being truncated as I uploaded them, and it took me this long to fix it. If you go back and re-read chapters 5 and 6, everything should be corrected now. Again, I sincerely apologize.

**Chapter Seven—Dumbledore's Man**

Harry's eyes blinked open at dawn the next day. "Psst Harry!" Ron whispered from the door. "Are you awake?"

"I am now," he said, sitting up in bed and shoving his hands through his hair.

"Sorry mate, but I had to talk to you before breakfast," Ron said, coming in and closing the door.

"All right, what's so important that it couldn't wait until daylight?"

If Ron noticed Harry's sour disposition, he didn't comment on it. "I wanted to make sure you didn't say anything about me and Hermione in front of anyone else."

"What about you and Hermione?"

Ron's ears turned pink. "We ah… talked things out yesterday."

The events of the previous morning and afternoon felt like weeks away to Harry, so it took him another minute to process what his friend was saying. "Ah… that's nice."

"Yeah. The thing is, we'd rather everyone didn't know," Ron said, getting back to his original request.

"Why not?"

"You know how Mum will be—she'll be ready to throw a party and start planning our wedding. We've been hiding how we feel for so long, all the attention would just be weird. Plus…"

"What?"

"Well, it just seems like there are more important things to be talking about, y'know?"

Harry looked away then. "Yeah, I know."

"Right. So I'll see you at breakfast," Ron said, exiting the room as quickly as possible.

Alone again, Harry flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Some part of him was glad his two best friends had finally stopped denying their feelings, but his darker side resented that they chose this time. "Snape's out there and they're going to be snogging each other's brains out," he muttered, knowing even as he said it that he wasn't being fair. Hadn't Ron just said they knew there were important things to be thinking about?

It was a good two hours before he stumbled down the stairs into the kitchen. He'd half hoped that everyone have cleared out so he could eat his breakfast in peace, but Ron and Hermione were still sitting at the table, talking quietly.

"Morning Harry," Ron said. Harry just grunted. "The tea is hot and Mum made toast and eggs for breakfast."

Harry's only response was to pick up a plate and fill it before sitting down. "I don't want to talk about it," he said when he saw Hermione's worried expression.

"But Harry, surely you can see they're right."

"If I couldn't, do you think I'd still be here?" he countered, his voice hard. He felt a fleeting stab of guilt when she flinched, but he shoved it down. She was the one who had refused to leave it alone.

He ate his breakfast quickly, trying to ignore the stares he was getting. When their glances turned from reproachful to concerned, he pushed his half empty plate away from himself and sighed. "Look, I know why I need to stay here, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Last night I kept thinking about how Sirius would have felt, having his life controlled by that great greasy git. He would have hated it."

"You're right, he would have," Ron agreed, surprising Harry.

"Ron!"

"Well he would have! Sirius hated Snape!"

Harry could tell by the look on her face that her attention was focused on Ron, so he took the opportunity to sneak out. As he headed up the stairs, he heard her say, "That may be, but Harry doesn't need to hear that now."

Quickening his steps just in case they realized he was gone and came looking for him, he passed his room and opened the door to the attic stairs instead. The long, rambling room was dusty but surprisingly empty. _Dung probably cleared this out first,_ he thought, remembering the suitcase full of Sirius' things the old reprobate had been carrying.

_Not Sirius' stuff, my stuff,_ he reminded himself, his heart clenching. Sirius was gone and 12 Grimmauld Place had become his prison instead. "And I can't even change into a dog if I want to take a run," he said, trying to find something to laugh at.

However, thinking about Padfoot led his thoughts to the night he'd met Sirius, when Snape had destroyed the one chance he'd had at life away from the Dursleys. Never mind that he might have been forced to stay there anyway for the blood protection, at least Sirius wouldn't have spent the last two years of his life on the run.

He could feel the anger welling up inside him and he took a deep breath, trying to calm down. When that didn't work, he walked swiftly to the garret window at one end of the attic. The only view it provided was the grey, November weather, which he normally would have found even more depressing. Today, it was just dull enough to center his raging emotions.

Staring out at the fog and lost in the thought, he was unaware of how much time was passing until his stomach growled, indicating it was time to eat again. He contemplated simply hiding all day, but he reckoned that would only make people ask more questions he didn't want to answer, so he went downstairs reluctantly.

To his surprise, Charlie, Bill, and Remus had joined Ron and Hermione for lunch. The quiet conversation stopped as soon as he entered the kitchen, but he tried to ignore it, taking his place at the table.

"So Harry…" Ron said awkwardly, "where have you been all morning?"

Harry shrugged, not wanting to give away his hiding place. "No place important."

Bill tried next. "Ron says you've got quite the place in Godric's Hollow."

He shrugged again, trying to keep his steadily mounting anger in check. The awkwardness and the way they were reaching for things to talk about made it obvious that they'd been talking about him… or Snape.

"Who do you think's going to win the Quidditch championship this year?"

Charlie's attempt to draw him out earned a snort of disbelief. "I can see you were all discussing something private when I walked in," he said icily. "I'll get out of your way so you can get back to it."

"Harry, wait," Remus ordered, stopping him when he was halfway through the kitchen door. "Bill and Charlie were just telling us what they know so far, would you like to stay?" Hermione made a sound of disagreement, but he said, "He has a right to know, Hermione."

It was the words, which so closely echoed those Sirius had spoken two years ago, that made up his mind. "Go ahead," he said, sitting back down.

"We don't actually know much," Charlie said hesitantly. "Snape is a damned clever bastard—sorry Hermione—and he covered his tracks pretty well."

"We did manage to find how they got in. They took a Port-key—one way, so we couldn't trace them away from Azkaban."

"How did they manage to sneak in on a Port-key?" Harry asked. "Shouldn't that have tripped the alarms? Weren't the wards in place?"

Bill nodded grimly. "There were wards—or at least there were before they were deactivated."

"One of the Aurors?" Ron questioned sharply.

"Yep. Too bad he died in the process, it would have been a nice bit of irony, putting him in one of those cells," Charlie said.

"Died, or was killed by Snape?" Harry asked, knowing the answer when the two Weasleys shared a surprised look.

"Snape, or one of the Death Eaters," Bill said. "But how—"

"He did it so the traitor couldn't tell us if we have anymore leaks."

"Which either means that we do—" Charlie said

"Or that he wants us to think we do," Bill finished. "You were right Charlie, he is a damned clever bastard."

"Is there anything else?" Remus asked, taking charge. When they both shook their heads, he said, "All right then; go up and get some rest, you're both out at midnight again."

After they left, he turned back to the trio and said, "I'll be in the library for the rest of the afternoon if you need me."

"Professor Lupin, wait!" Hermione said.

"You can call me Remus," he pointed out wearily as he turned back around.

Ignoring the comment, she said, "I want to know why you let Harry hear all that."

Harry could hardly believe his ears, and judging from the other men's reactions, neither could they. Remus' eyebrows had risen up to his hairline, and Ron just moaned, "Hermione…"

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" he asked, trying to keep his cool.

She crossed her arms. "You know very well what it means. The more you know, the more likely you'll be to go after him."

"Hermione," Remus said, filling the shocked silence, "I told Harry because I know him—the _less_ he knows, the more likely he is to run off. He's very like his father in that. The easiest way to keep James from doing something stupid was to make him feel in control of the situation."

He paused, and his eyes glinted with steel. "There is also the fact that this war is as much Harry's as ours, if not more so," he added. "Again, if you need me, I'll be in the library.

Harry waited until he was gone before glaring at Hermione, who still had her mouth set in a thin line. "I told you this morning that if I was going to go after him, I'd already be gone," he told her, his voice low and hard. "It's bad enough that I'm trapped in here while he's out there, I at least though I had your trust and support." Her expression faltered, but he was too angry to care. "I want to be alone right now, I'll be back down for dinner. If you need me before then… too bad."

He stormed out of the room and was almost to the attic stairs before he realized Ron was following him. "Ron, I'm not very good company right now," he warned. "I'm not angry at you but…"

"I know," Ron said, waving away the warning. "I just came… I wanted to apologize for her. Well, really I wanted to make sure you know that I agree with Remus—you had a right to know."

"Thanks."

"Not a problem."

Harry stared at his friend for a moment and then laughed. "What's so funny?" Ron asked.

"I was just thinking… they say men marry women who remind them of their mothers…"

"Hey, who said anything about marriage?"

"And Hermione is an awful lot like your mum."

Ron shuddered. "Don't say things like that."

"Don't you remember when your mum insisted we were too young to know about the Order?"

He smiled, then grimaced. "Oy… don't say it…"

"Congratulations mate, you fell in love with your mother!" Harry said, laughing again.

Ron made a show of rolling his eyes before regarding him seriously. "Are we okay?"

"We will be," Harry answered honestly.

"All right then, I'll see you at dinner."

When he came down for dinner five hours later, Hermione was waiting at the foot of the stairs, nervously twisting her hands together. Biting back a sarcastic comment, he nodded slightly, indicating she could speak.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said remorsefully. "I didn't mean to imply that I don't trust you, I was just…"

"Worried?" he provided. She flushed and stared at the floor, and he knew he was right. After spending the entire afternoon trying to work out why she'd acted like she had, that had been the conclusion he'd drawn. It was time to get something straight. "I don't need a mother, Hermione," he said bluntly. She looked up at him, confused, and he continued. "I've seen and done more than most 30 year olds—I need a friend, someone who has my back, not someone running after me insisting I wear a warmer jacket. Honestly, all that does is annoy me. D'you think you could stop giving all the dire warnings and lectures?"

By the time he was done, her eyes were wide. He was little surprised too—he'd never managed to be that frank about how her nagging made him feel.

"I can try," she said, her voice small.

"Good. Then let's go eat, dinner smells excellent."

Ron flashed him a questioning look when the walked into the kitchen, and he gave him a small smile to indicate it was taken care of. He grinned back and tucked into his dinner.

"Did you spend the whole afternoon in the library?" Hermione asked Remus as she put a healthy spoonful of shepherd's pie on her plate.

"I did."

"I was wondering, are there any Defense books?" Harry and Ron looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Hermione was back in research mode.

"There are several books on the Dark Arts, but I'm afraid the Blacks were more into dabbling in them than defending against them."

Harry played with his food, considering carefully what he was about to say. On the one hand, Dumbledore had told him to keep it a secret. He hadn't even told Professor McGonagall when she'd asked. However, their research was going nowhere, and the headmaster had also urged him to ask for help when he needed it.

Making up his mind, he looked at Remus and said, "I don't suppose any of the books mention Horcruxes?"

Hermione gasped and Ron's jaw dropped, but Remus just set his fork down and stared at him neutrally. "I'm assuming that means Voldemort has one?"

Harry shook his head. "Not one, seven. Although he's down to four now, and one piece is still in his body."

"Is that what you've been doing? Hunting down Horcruxes?"

"Yeah. It would be easier if we knew how to destroy them without destroying the actual object though," Harry explained. "Hermione was knocked out when we got rid of the third one."

Remus' gaze swung over to her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "The blast knocked me off my feet is all."

He turned back to Harry and said, "You might find something, I don't know. That is very Dark magic, I'm not sure the Blacks would have had books on Horcruxes."

"I bet the Malfoys would," Ron muttered.

Remus laughed and said, "Probably, but unless you can think of a way to get into Malfoy Manor, you're better off looking here."

"We'll start first thing in the morning then," Hermione said. "I think I'll read a bit before bed; would you care to join me in the library, Ron?"

Ron looked torn between the desire to spend time with Hermione and his general dislike of books. Seeing his problem, Harry said, "I brought a Quidditch book of my dad's that you might like to read—_Keeper Kafuffles and Other Quidditch Quandaries._"

"That'd be great," Ron said.

"Come with me up to my room and I'll get it for you."

Five minutes later, he was alone in his room. Ron had invited him to join them, but he didn't really want to get in the way of their alone time, plus he didn't want to be around anyone at all. He sat in the dark, staring out at the night sky. The moon was barely a sliver in the midnight canvas and the city lights dimmed the stars, but still, it was better than laying in his bed staring at the ceiling.

When he heard footsteps in the hallway indicating that everyone else was going to bed, he quietly opened the door and snuck downstairs to the living room. The fire here was kept burning all night for those who came in at odd hours of the night, and he settled himself into the couch, staring at the flickering flames.

He'd forgotten that Bill and Charlie would be leaving at midnight. "Harry! What are you doing down here?" Bill asked.

"Not tired yet," he said with a shrug.

Neither brother looked convinced, but they didn't have time to press the issue. "Right," said Charlie. "Well, Mad-Eye wants us in Devon, so we'd better go. Take care."

Harry stayed up all night, finally turning in just before the dawn shift returned. The only reason he went to bed at all was to avoid any awkward questions from the others about what he'd been doing, staring at the fire all night. He especially didn't want to tell Mrs. Weasley that he'd been thinking about Sirius… he'd had all the mothering he could handle for one day.

It had been a long day and he drifted off to sleep easily, despite all the things on his mind. When he woke up, the sun was high in the sky and someone was pounding on his door.

"Oy Harry! You've already missed breakfast, you're going to miss lunch too if you don't hurry!"

Harry dashed to the bathroom and took a quick shower before going downstairs to lunch. "Are Bill and Charlie back yet?" he asked after taking a bite of his sandwich.

"No," said Remus. "I was just going to tell Ron and Hermione about that, but they insisted we wait for you. They found an actual trail last night, they might not be back for a while."

"A trail?" Harry repeated, nearly choking in excitement. "How close are they?"

"We don't know yet, we don't even know if it's real. But as Moody says, 'Constant vigilance!' Every possible lead will be followed."

"Are we ready to go to the library?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"I don't think I'll join you," Harry said, surprising them all.

"But Harry, it was your idea to look here."

"I know… I'm just… not in the mood to do research right now," he said, wincing at the lame excuse.

He was grateful Remus cut her off before she could argue. "If Harry would rather be alone, that's his choice."

"Thanks. I'll be up in my room if you find anything interesting," he said before leaving the table.

He couldn't explain his sudden lack of interest, even to himself. All he knew was that he didn't want to do anything but stay in his room all afternoon. He tried reading a skinny little book he'd found on wandless magic called _At Your Fingertips_, but after reading the first paragraph three times, he gave up and just stretched out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

All his memories of Sirius played across his mind like a Muggle motion picture. Sirius showing up in Little Whinging in his Animagus form before he wanted to see him; Padfoot again, this time watching him play Quidditch; Sirius asserting his rights as his guardian to give him permission to visit Hogsmeade; Sirius and Remus both telling him more of the details of his parents' relationship; Sirius loving him enough to rescue him at the Department of Mysteries.

It had taken time, but he'd stopped blaming himself for Sirius' death. He had realized that if he, Harry, had died attempting to save Sirius, he would not have blamed his godfather from beyond the veil. He would have been glad that he had succeeded, no matter what the cost.

That didn't lessen the ache though, only time could do that. Time had been doing a good job of it too, until he'd had to come back here. Being in this house was like having a scab ripped off and lemon juice poured in the newly opened wound. His only consolation was that Kreacher was not here to taunt him.

By dinner time, he'd almost made himself ill with his constant thinking and remembering. When Ron came to tell him it was time to eat, he mumbled something about not being hungry and rolled over onto his stomach, wrapping his arms around his pillow and quickly falling asleep.

He was surprised when he woke up to see he'd slept for almost five hours, since he'd gotten a full eight hours the night before. Even more surprising, he still felt tired. Despite that and the late hour, he couldn't get back to sleep, no matter how much he tossed and turned. 12 Grimmauld Place was as bad for his sleeping habits as the Kiln was good.

Harry was careful to wait until the midnight guard left before going back to the living room. He knew the others, Hermione especially, were concerned that he was shutting everyone out to brood, but he simply found it harder to be in this house than anyone else seemed to, and being alone made it more bearable. If he was alone, no one was asking him if he was all right or tip-toeing around the subject.

Staying up late and sleeping until noon made it easier to avoid people. He was also hoping someone would come back with a report from Mad-Eye, but when the house was still silent at 6:00 in the morning, he went off to bed.

It wasn't long before he found he was enjoying the nights far more than the days. He wandered the entire main floor, sometimes pausing before the warmth of the fire and on other nights sitting in the library, reading or staring outside at the moon and Orion.

He was there two weeks later watching the almost full moon when someone opened the door. "Good evening, Harry," Remus said quietly.

"Remus… I thought you were in bed."

"I would be, but I've heard from several people that you're not sleeping. Molly saw you sneak in here last night when she came down to prepare Arthur's breakfast."

Harry sighed; of course someone would have noticed his odd hours. Trying to avoid the subject, he said, "Do you know, you can see almost every constellation from my house. I didn't realize how accustomed I'd gotten to seeing all of them. But here… all I can really see is Orion's belt, and Sirius."

Remus crossed the room and put his hand on his shoulder, and Harry found himself blinking back tears. "I miss him too," he said softly.

"It's not just that. It's being in this house, being trapped here just like he was. I never wanted to see this place again—I think I would rather live with the Dursleys than here.

"Snape taunted him about being here. He taunted him with it, and now he's put me in the same place.

"I hate him!" he finally burst out. "I hate that he's out there while I'm in here, I hate that he made Sirius miserable, and that he can't let go of his grudge against my dad, and I hate… I hate him for killing Dumbledore. Remus, how am I going to do this without his help?"

There. It was finally out—the question that had been bothering him since that night on the tower. "I was counting on his experience, how am I going to do this alone?"

"First, you're not entirely alone. You have the Order behind you every step of the way, and I'd bet that Ron and Hermione will be fighting right beside you when the end comes. But when it comes, Harry, you will be alone. You've known that since you heard about the prophecy. You're the Chosen One, you would have had to kill Voldemort on your own even if Dumbledore had lived.

Harry didn't answer and finally Remus said, "I'm going to get some sleep. Tomorrow is the full moon and I'm worn out." And then Harry was alone again.

Not a minute later, he heard the front door slam shut and Moody's characteristic stomping. "Slimy little bugger," he heard him mutter as he stuck his head out into the hallway.

"What's wrong?" Remus asked.

"What's wrong?" Mad-Eye bellowed. "That bastard managed to slip away again, that's what's wrong!"

Harry's fists clenched until his knuckles were white. Somehow, Snape had gotten away. Over the sound of blood pounding in his head, he heard Remus ask Moody to tell him all about it in the morning.

"Nothing to tell," Moody grunted. "He set a false Apparition trail for his—we're just lucky it didn't lead us into a trap.

Once the two men had gone upstairs, Harry stalked down the hallway and paced in front of the fireplace. "Snape 2, Harry 0," he said angrily. "Some Chosen One I am. I'm stuck here instead of being out doing my job. Is Voldemort supposed to come here so I can kill him? I can't even do that until I destroy the rest of the Horcruxes, and one's missing and we don't know what the other is!"

He flopped down in an arm chair and stared moodily at the fire. The last two weeks had been an utter waste of time; he needed to be out there doing something! A plan was forming in his head, if he left now, before anyone else was up, he could go after the Horcruxes himself. "And if I find Snape while I'm out, too bad for him," he added viciously.

His mind made up, he went first to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. There was a fresh loaf of bread on the counter. He picked up a sharp knife laying next to it and started to cut a piece of bread, but his hands were still shaking in anger. The knife slipped out of his fingers and he instinctively reached out to catch it, hissing when it left a long slice on his left forearm instead.

"I'd better be careful," Harry muttered as he watched his blood drip onto the kitchen floor. "If I keep it up, I won't need any help from Voldemort to do myself in."

The thought gave him a kind of savage pleasure. This was blood of his that Voldemort would never have. The satisfaction at having thwarted Voldemort in however trivial a matter swept him away on a current of euphoria. This was a battle he could win, this was a time when control lay entirely in his own hands, and the sense of power that gave him was tremendous.

In that moment, all thoughts of Snape were forgotten. His frustrations were brushed aside by a wave of emotion, and his mind made a quick connection: Bleeding brings relief from the pressures of being the Boy Who Lived. And if bleeding helped, why not bleed some more, he wondered.

He stared at the knife for several minutes, even going so far as to rest the long, silver blade against the pale skin of his arm. The desire to use the utensil as a weapon against himself was powerful, and yet something in the back of him mind held him back. He tried to ignore it, to do what he wanted to do, but it niggled at him with persistence of a Niffler who'd caught the scent of gold. Something someone had said to him... what was it?

Then it came him. It was Dumbledore's words, as he tried to explain why he had not told him about the prophecy before. "I defy anyone who has watched you as I have--and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined--not to want to save you more pain than you had already suffered."

With a sudden flash of clarity, he knew the last thing Dumbledore would have wanted was for him to inflict that pain upon himself. Trembling slightly, he placed the knife back on the counter.

Once the decision was made, he truly felt the pain in his arm for the first time. Wincing as it sliced through him, he shook his head and said, "And I wanted to purposely earn more pain like this?" Searching the kitchen drawers, he found a towel and used it to staunch the blood still oozing from the cut. "I guess I really am Dumbledore's man through and through," he murmured as he watched it stain the towel.

It didn't stop the pain however, and against his will, two tears sprung to Harry's eyes as he fought against it. So intent was he on his own battle that he didn't hear the familiar song filling the air until he felt the calming effect it always had on his spirit. It was phoenix song.

Harry watched as Fawkes flew to him and landed gently on his injured arm, just above the cut. Knowing the bird's intent, he pulled the towel back but said, "Not all the way Fawkes... leave a scar, ok?" For as much as he wanted the pain to stop, he also sensed that he needed a reminder of this night.

Apparently the bird understood Harry's request, for he cried a single tear into the wound before taking off, soaring around the room once before disappearing. Harry watched him leave, wondering why he had come and at the same time feeling an immense wave of gratitude that he had. The pain had disappeared as completely as the phoenix and the cut had closed, leaving only a long, thin scar.

Suddenly very tired, Harry trudged back upstairs and sank into the comfortable bed. Within minutes, he was so soundly asleep that he didn't wake when two concerned adults peeked in. satisfied that he was actually sleeping, Molly and Remus went back to their own beds.


	8. Making Progress

**Chapter 8—Making Progress **

It was a different Harry who appeared in the kitchen the next day. He had stretched languorously when he awoke. The weariness and lethargy that had been troubling him were gone, leaving him feeling well-rested.

"Good morning, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," he answered, taking a seat at the table and pouring a cup of tea.

She paused in her breakfast preparations long enough to look at him over her shoulder. "Harry, you've been Ron's best friend for six years. You've spent holidays with us, you're a part of our family." She tactfully avoided mentioning Ginny, which he was grateful for. "I love you like my own sons, do you think you can call me Molly instead of Mrs. Weasley?"

For a moment, Harry couldn't speak past the lump in his throat. He had a mum, whom he loved and missed very much, but being part of the Weasley family had always lessened that feeling of loss. Nodding, he said, "I think I can do that… Molly."

She turned back around quickly, but not before he caught a suspicious brightness in her eyes. "Now then," she said briskly, "what are you doing up so early? And why on earth was there a bloody towel on my kitchen floor this morning?"

Not for the first time, Harry wondered how she always seemed to know everything. "I think I just finally got enough sleep," he said, answering the first question.

"I know you were in bed much earlier than you have been. Remus and I looked in on you around 1:00, you were already out. And the towel?"

He rolled up his sleeve. "I had a little mishap last night," he said, hoping she wouldn't ask for details.

She set a bowl of fruit down in front of him and picked up his arm, carefully examining the scar. "It looks like it's healed nicely," she said finally.

"How did you know it was my blood?" he asked while he rolled his sleeve back down.

"No one came home injured last night, and you were the only one up. Now eat your breakfast dear."

"Breakfast?" Ron echoed as he walked through the kitchen door, Hermione close on his heels. "Did I hear someone mention food?"

"Get your toast and sit down with Harry. I need to get back upstairs."

"Good morning, Ron, good morning Hermione," Harry said cheerfully.

Ron and Hermione both stared at him, and Ron said, "Harry! You're… you're…"

"Hungry," Harry supplied. "Bring the eggs over?" Ron picked them up from the counter and set them down in front of him. Harry put some on his plate, watching in amusement as Ron gaped at him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," he said finally, taking his seat at the table.

"Thanks."

From the way Hermione kept opening her mouth and shutting it again, Harry guessed she wanted to question his sudden change in demeanor, but for once, she tamped down her curiosity. To thank her, he asked, "How's the research coming?"

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, just splendidly! I finally found a book last night that I think might have the spell we're looking for, but we had to go to bed before I could read more than the introduction. It's called, How to Undo the Magic You Won't Learn in School."

"That's not all though," Ron said. "Tell him what else you found."

"Yes Ron, I'm getting to that. There are quite a few books on the Founders. I've been setting them aside to read later. Hopefully, we'll find mention of something of Ravenclaw's that Voldemort might have used as a Horcrux."

"Sounds like you've been busy."

"Oh… have we ever!" Ron said, his expression one of distaste.

For the first time, Harry realized that his self-imposed isolation had left Ron to deal with Hermione's over enthusiastic approach to scholarly pursuits alone. He shot him an apologetic glance and received a forgiving shrug in return.

"Well, shall we go back to the library?" she asked brightly, standing and sending all the dishes to the sink with a quick wave of her wand.

"Do we have a choice?" Harry teased, expecting a witty rejoinder. When her smile only showed the slightest hint of exasperation, he knew she'd been truly worried about him. She had to have been, to be tolerating his jokes.

Resolving to make it up to both of them, he stood up and smiled fully. "Lead the way," he told her, gesturing to the door.

"I'm going to read the book I found last night first," she said as they walked to the library. "Why don't the two of you start on the books about the Founders?"

Harry was about halfway through Valued Intelligence: Little Known Facts About Rowena Ravenclaw when Hermione squealed. "I found it, I found it!" she chanted over and over, dancing a little jig in the middle of the room.

"What is it?" Ron asked, letting Great Godric! fall unheeded to the floor.

"_Animam Horcruce extermino,"_ she said, fairly bursting with excitement.

"Banishing the spirit from the Horcrux," Harry translated. "Simple enough… we should have figured that out on our own."

"Harry! I didn't know you knew Latin!"

He raised an eyebrow at her surprise. "I'm not a complete dimwit," he said dryly. "After studying magic for six years, I should have a basic understanding of Latin."

"I didn't mean that…"

"Now we just need to find another Horcrux to try it out on," Ron said, bringing them back to focus.

"Yes, of course!" she agreed. "Let's see how quickly we can make our way through this stack. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we found it all today?"

They didn't though, nor did they find it the day after that. The pile of books dwindled and they took turns scanning the shelves, finding new books for the others to skim in hopes of finding a conspicuously missing item.

After a week, all the relevant books had been pulled from the shelves. The euphoria from finding the spell had diminished along with the number of books waiting on the table to be read. They were down to only 14, then 10, and now just the three they held in their hands.

Harry had just finished Hogwarts: The Beginning of an Era when a loud thud startled him. he looked up from his seat to see what had caused the noise. The answer was obvious when he caught sight of a disgruntled Hermione, glaring disdainfully at the enormous tome she must have slammed shut.

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "What did the book do to you?"

"Nothing Ronald, that's the problem! This _library_," she fairly sneered, "has yet to yield a single piece of information about a possible Ravenclaw artifact, and I'm sick of it!"

While she fumed, Ron and Harry exchanged a private glance of amusement. Some things never changed. In the middle of the tensest situations, Hermione could remain completely cool, but as soon as she discovered no books held the answers she sought, her mood turned foul.

Harry turned back just in time to hear the end of her rant. "As if it's not bad enough that we're stuck here, away from the action, we aren't even making any progress in finding the Horcruxes!"

"Come on Hermione," he said mildly. "You know we don't belong out in the battle right now. We need to be here…"

"You can't be serious Harry," Ron said, asking the question that had been on his mind since the new, calmer Harry had appeared. "Weren't you the one talking a few weeks ago about not being content to sit around headquarters doing nothing, while they're all out there fighting? And what about Snape? Remember him? Greasy hair, slimy traitor…"

"I'm not likely to forget him Ron, but you could say my priorities have changed. I suddenly realized that being the Boy Who Lived wouldn't do any good if I became the Boy Who Died A Heroic And Yet Massively Idiotic Death before the end of the war." The title pulled a reluctant smile from Ron, and he continued. "And besides, we are doing something."

"And what is that exactly?"

"We're looking for the Horcruxes."

"Ah, but we haven't found them, have we Harry?" Hermione cut in. "Three weeks looking through this library, and not a single clue. If we hadn't found the spell, the last month would have a complete waste of time. I'd like to actually try it out though!"

"Maybe we're focusing on the wrong thing then," Harry suggested, closing his own book and standing to pace the room. "Maybe we should still be thinking about Slytherin's locket."

"But we don't know where it is!"

Harry responded with some of her own exasperation. "At least we know what it is, which is more than we can say about the fifth Horcrux. We're not even sure it's something of Ravenclaw's, are we?"

"And what, pray tell, do you expect us to do with this vast store of knowledge?" she mocked, her frustration boiling over. Picking up her wand, she mimed her next words. "Should we hold up our wands and say, "_Accio Slytherin's locket!"_

For a moment the room was silent as they all pondered their dilemma. Then they became aware of a faint rushing sound that grew steadily louder, until they turned around just in time to see a small gold object fly into Hermione's hands. Staring at it and gaping like a fish, she said, "What just happened?"

"You Summoned the locket, Hermione!" Ron crowed, jumping to his feet and pulling her into a hug. After taking a closer look at the locket, he took it from her and held it up, squinting a bit as he examined. "Say," he said finally, "isn't this the same one we found two years ago when we were cleaning the house? Remember, Kreacher hid it so we couldn't throw it away?"

"But that's impossible!" she protested, pulling back and staring disbelievingly at the object she held. "I couldn't possibly have Summoned it, I was only joking! And besides, how would Slytherin's locket have ended up in Sirius' home?" she questioned, expecting to stump the boys.

But for Harry, a piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. "The locket is here because Sirius' brother stole it," he said. "RAB must be Regulus Black. That's what he did that got Voldemort so angry! I bet Voldemort did kill him personally after all," he said as an afterthought.

"So this is really the locket?" she asked, looking a bit uneasy at the thought that she might be holding a piece of Voldemort's soul in her hand.

"Course it is, Hermione!" Ron answered. "You know how a Summoning spell works—it only summons the thing called for."

"Right then… what now?"

"We destroy it, of course," Harry said, leaving the library and leading the way out the back door.

Once they were all outside, he took the locket from her and placed it on the ground. Stepping into position between her and Ron, he looked at them both and said, "I still think the shield is a good idea. I'd rather not get hit by another curse." They raised their wands and nodded, their faces mirroring the nervousness he felt. "If this doesn't work…" He shoved the thought away before it could paralyze him and lifted his wand.

"_Animam Horcruce extermino!"_

A narrow jet of gold burst from his wand tip, and beside him, Ron and Hermione shouted, "_Protego!"_ The locket rose into the air, glowing brightly, and they felt a powerful magical backlash. Harry quickly added his own strength to ensure the shield would hold.

The floating locket continued to glow for a few more minutes before dropping softly onto the ground and returning to its normal appearance. Harry waited a few more seconds before stepping outside the shield.

"Harry!"

He smiled at Hermione and said, "It's fine, you don't need it anymore." Almost reluctantly, she and Ron lowered their wands. When they weren't hit by some latent curse, they both smiled with him. "See? The spell worked."

"How can you be sure, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"There's an easy way to find out," he said and bent over to pick up the locket. "When we found this two years ago, it wouldn't open." He lifted the cover of the locket with ease. "That's four down," he said triumphantly.

As he said the words, he felt a deep sense of relief. It was different from how he'd felt after they'd destroyed the cup. For a brief moment, he thought he heard an echo of Phoenix song, and he understood. By destroying the object he had sought with Dumbledore, he had fulfilled his mentor's final quest. He hoped Dumbledore knew, wherever he was…. And as music only he could hear faded away, he smiled and knew that he did.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** I'm very sorry this hasn't gotten posted yet. I wrote it shortly before Christmas, and then my computer died and I haven't had access to both Word and the internet on the same computer since then. I got a new computer last week, so hopefully posting will commence at a more regular pace. After all, I have a deadline now!

**Chapter Nine: That's What I Want For Christmas**

It was Christmas Eve. There was a tree up, with presents sparkling underneath it. For days, the house had been filled with the wonderful scents of Molly's Christmas baking, and that special anticipation that only the holidays bring. Christmas meant several things, but the one that had affected Harry the most was the end of the first term at Hogwarts. Ginny was home, and had been for three days.

Those three days hadn't been easy ones for Harry. The comfort he felt now as he joined the Weasley family at the dinner table was a far cry from the day she'd come home. Her note had certainly cleared up some of his guilt, but the thought of being in the same house with her and seeing her everyday was more than a little disconcerting. He couldn't have imagined the effect it would have on him though.

Leaning back in his chair, he let the memory of her arrival wash over him. When he saw her standing there, something deep inside him broke. A hurt eased that he hadn't known he'd been carrying, and he'd felt freer than he had in a long time. It was there, in the middle of the busy house and surrounded by her family, that Harry first realized he loved her.

The force of that revelation was still strong in his mind. Knowing how he knew now, he couldn't imagine how Ron and Hermione had kept their feelings from each other for so long.

They were sitting next to each other on his right, arguing as usual. He smiled and shook his head; they argued the way most couple snogged: frequently and passionately. He knew most other people sitting around the table were waiting—rather impatiently—for them to cotton on to how they felt. Harry still didn't quite understand why they were keeping their relationship a secret, but he reckoned he didn't have any room to comment.

_But I have a reason for not telling her,_ he argued with his conscience. _Voldemort…_

It was the same thing he'd been telling himself for three days, and for six months before that. The problem was, it was getting harder and harder to believe. It just didn't feel natural, keeping this from her. He couldn't help but wonder if he ought to tell her, if she deserved to know.

Laughter from the other end of the table drew his attention, and it only took one glance at Molly's stern face and Arthur's sheepish expression to know the older man had said or done something that had earned him a reprimand from his wife. In some ways, the relationship between the Weasley parents was just a quieter, more matured version of Ron and Hermione. There was some bickering, but under it all was a deep love that had weathered some fierce storms… like the first war with Voldemort.

Harry winced; the pricking of his conscience was becoming more difficult to ignore with every day. He knew that most people facing an uncertain future would be likely to grab the chance for happiness, not run from it. It had been that way twenty years ago, and it was that way now. Why did he always have to do things backwards?

He laughed with everyone when Bill took a drink and suddenly turned into the familiar canary. Fleur glared at her brothers-in-law. "Change 'im back," she demanded, folding her arms across her chest.

"Relax, Fleur," Fred said. "It only lasts a minute."

Sure enough, a moment later Bill was sitting with them again. "Liquid canary creams," George explained. "Only eight Sickles…. Of course, we had to test it on someone, you understand, right Bill?"

"Are you having a good holiday, Harry?" asked someone on his left as the table burst into laughter again at Bill's scowl.

Harry turned and smiled at Remus, getting a good look at his former professor. He seemed happier than Harry had ever seen him. The dark shadows under his eyes were gone, and he looked healthy and rested. He didn't have to look far to see the reason for the transformation. Tonks was back to her old self, complete with bubblegum pink hair.

"I am," he said, answering the question as he glanced around the table again.

It was love he saw on their faces, he realized. It was love that gave them the ability to have a happy family Christmas, despite what was happening in the world. Without warning, he was filled with a deep yearning to love and be loved as well. He knew every person in the room loved him in their own way—as a friend, or a brother, or a son—but he wanted more. He wanted Ginny, assuming she still wanted him.

Once the decision had been made, he was filled with a sense of rightness, as though this had been the only possible choice all along. He couldn't be himself if he didn't love Ginny, and as for Voldemort…. Well, if he wasn't himself, he wasn't exactly going to be a help on that front either. All the doubts he'd had this week disappeared, and his field of vision narrowed until he saw nothing but her. He waited impatiently for the meal to end so he could finally have a chance to talk to her alone.

It was Ginny herself who gave him the opportunity not 10 minutes later. "Mum, you're going to be in the kitchen all day tomorrow. Why don't you relax in the living room tonight? I can clean up."

"Are you sure, dear?" Molly asked. "I left the kitchen in a bit of a shambles, trying to get cookies baked and dinner on."

"I'll help," Harry quickly volunteered. "If we work together, we should be able to get it done quickly."

"Well all right then, I would enjoy a night off. Thank you Ginny, Harry," she said. "Not that we'll be up too much longer," she added, taking note of the late hour. "Dinner took a bit longer than usual tonight."

"You have Fred and George to thank for that, Mum," Charlie said, glaring at his brothers as he rubbed his forehead, which had recently sported a rhinoceros horn.

"Yes well, I'm sure they were only trying to add to the festivities," Arthur said.

"Trying to disrupt the peace is more like it," Bill charged, following the group out of the room.

Ginny and Harry looked at each other across the table and laughed. "You'd think that after all these years, they would have learned to watch their food when Fred and George are at the table," Ginny said, shaking her head.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, feeling a little tongue tied now that they were alone. "So…" he said, grasping around for a topic of conversation, "have you had a good holiday so far?"

Ginny didn't answer at first. Harry watched in fearful admiration as she briskly sent the dishes into the kitchen, her eyes narrow. "You'd know the answer to that if you'd bothered to talk to me," she said, a bit cross.

"Right. Why don't we get started?" he said nervously, moving quickly into the kitchen and turning on the water.

"Trying to avoid the subject, Potter?" she asked, her brows raised.

"Just in a hurry," he answered. "It's Christmas Eve, Ginny. Don't you know Father Christmas won't come until you're asleep?"

"Mm-hmm," she said, plunging her hands into a sink that was filling with water. "So what have you been up to all week, Harry? I thought my letter would have cleared up any awkwardness, but even if it didn't, I certainly didn't expect to be ignored."

He stared at her, his mouth hanging open a little. She couldn't have given him a better opening if he'd asked her to. _This is your chance, Potter; don't blow it!_

"I've just had something on my mind…. I guess I was kind of lost in thought."

"For three days?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He nodded, hoping she would believe him. She studied him for a moment, then, apparently convinced he was telling the truth, said, "Well. As long as you weren't just avoiding me."

"Actually, in a way I was thinking about you," he said, Gryffindor boldness coming through.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her expression almost coy, but still a bit guarded. "Really? How's that?"

He opened his mouth to tell her, but no sound came out. _Wanting to tell her and actually saying the words are two completely different things,_ he realized, feeling his heart race. _What if she says it's too late? What if…_

His what-ifs were cut off by Ginny snapping her fingers in his face. "Harry! Are you going say something, or do you just want to do the dishes?"

"Ginny, I…" The words got stuck in his throat again. _It's just three words, why can't I say it?_ he asked himself desperately. "I… oh hell," he muttered, giving up and grabbing her by the shoulders. Pulling her to him, he placed his lips on hers and kissed her exactly has he had wanted to every night for the last four months.

Holding her, he felt whole again and he tried to convey that in his kiss, to tell her without words how much he had missed her and how much he needed her. He thought maybe she understood when she gave a little sigh and wrapped her arms around him, sinking her soapy hands into the hair at the nape of his neck. Still, he waited a few more seconds before breaking the kiss, not wanting to leave any doubt.

When he pulled back, he stared at her for a few moments before speaking, letting her see the naked emotion in his eyes. "Do you know what I was thinking about now?"

She smiled, and he was sure she did. "You want to get back together."

"What? No!" he said, without thinking about how it would sound.

Her arms fell to her sides and she turned away from him. "Then what was that about, Harry?" Her voice was flat, completely lacking the joy of a moment before.

He winced at the hurt he'd seen before she turned around. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to confuse you Ginny," he said. Desperate to fix his blunder, he tentatively placed one hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, but didn't pull away, giving him the courage to finish his thought. "I've just never done this before."

"Never done what before?"

_This is your last chance, Potter, _he told himself, turning her around to face him. He took a deep breath and said, "I've never told someone that I love them."

He watched her face anxiously and knew the exact moment his words registered. She smiled a slow smile that shot straight to his heart before standing on her toes and brushing a soft kiss on his lips. "It took you long enough," she said when she settled back down and rested her face against his chest.

Harry laughed and placed a kiss on top of her head, knowing this was her way of saying she loved him too. "Do you suppose we ought to finish the dishes so we can sit down and talk?" he suggested, his heart lighter than it had ever been."

She looked at him and then at the sink full of dirty dishes. "Couldn't we skip the dishes and go straight to the talking?" she asked, looking back up at him hopefully.

"Fraid not Gin," Harry said firmly, only to ruin it by laughing when she pouted. He didn't give in though, saying, "Your mum will want the kitchen spotless to prepare Christmas dinner—she'd kill us if we left it looking like this."

Another quick glance at the piles of dishes was all she needed to know he was right. "Let's do a quick job of it then," she said decisively, pulling away and plunging her hands back into the soapy water.

Ten minutes later, the kitchen was sparkling, and Ginny was grabbing Harry by the hand and pulling him into the abandoned living room. He settled onto the couch and pulled her down next to him. "I've missed this," she said with a contented sigh.

Harry murmured his agreement and they sat quietly together for a few minutes before something occurred to Ginny. "Hang on; are you telling me that you've spent the last three days trying to decide if you love me?" she demanded, pulling back to glare at him.

"Not exactly," he hedged, knowing the truth wouldn't make her much happier.

"Then what, exactly?"

Gearing up for her reaction, he started at the beginning of the story. "I knew I loved you when I first saw you again. I've spent three days wondering if I should tell you."

Ginny stared at him incredulously. "You actually considered not telling me?" she asked. When he nodded, she said, "Because you thought it would put me in danger, I suppose…. Harry, I love you, but if you ever think about doing something like that again, I swear I'll hex that noble streak right out of you."

He barely heard the threat. "This is the difference," he said dazedly.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"This is the difference between knowing you love me and hearing you say it," he explained, a wide smile on his face.

"I guess I haven't actually said it yet, have I?" she said musingly, her gaze softening. "Yes Harry, this is the difference."

He looked away, feeling suddenly, sharply remorseful that he'd unknowingly left her on that limb for so long, and then he'd added the last three days on top of it. "I don't think you need to worry about cursing the nobility out of me," he told her, his voice tinged with guilt.

"Hey…. Look at me, Harry," she commanded gently, reaching up and turning his face toward her. "I wasn't trying to guilt you. I understood why you couldn't see that you loved me. Believe me, I was scared the first time I knew my feelings had gone past the simple crush I used to have on you. I can almost understand why you considered not telling me now. All I'm asking is that you not keep things from me anymore."

Ginny's words hung in the air for a moment before Harry nodded slowly. "No more secrets," he promised solemnly.

Her lips quirked into an impish smile he knew too well, and he almost regretted the words, though he knew there wasn't anything he wanted to keep from her. "In that case… Tell me what's happened since August. Hermione filled me in on some things, but I'd rather hear it from you."

"Well," he said, picking up her hand and lacing his fingers through hers, "did she tell you about the lady in Godric's Hollow who thought I was my father?"

"Surely she knows he's dead."

"Actually, she didn't. We all forgot about the Fidelius Charm. No one knew they even there except Peter and the few he told." His features tightened briefly and she squeezed his hand, urging him to continue. He smiled and her and said, "It was nice, being known on sight for a reason other than my scar."

"I can see how that would be true," she agreed. "Tell me about the first Horcrux."

Harry was not usually a storyteller, but with Ginny as a rapt audience, he found himself warming to the role. "The first Horcrux was Helga Hufflepuff's cup, but the real story is not the cup itself or how we found it. It's how we destroyed it."

"Did you find the spell Dumbledore used?" she asked curiously.

"No, that came later. We finally just decided to try a simple Reducto charm to destroy the object itself."

"But Harry," Ginny said, a hint of alarm in her voice, "you said the ring was protected with a strong enough curse to harm Dumbledore!"

"And the diary wasn't cursed at all," Harry pointed out. "The cup as it turns out was cursed. It was also protected by a series of minor wards that Hermione helped us past. At any rate, we had a plan to keep us safe from any stray curses. While I was casting the Reducto charm, Ron and Hermione put up shields, or they were supposed to. Hermione was just half a second slow, and she was knocked out."

"Was that when Ron told her he loves her?" she interrupted.

Harry just shook his head. _I've got to stop being surprised by what she knows,_ he told himself. "How did you figure that out?"

She shrugged slightly, playing with his fingers as she explained. "They fight differently now. Before, it was either Ron trying to get her to notice him, or Hermione being exasperated that he was so thick. Now it's just…"

"The way they communicate," Harry finished. "That actually wasn't when he told her—that took another six weeks, if you can believe it."

She snorted. "It's Ron, I can believe it. So… you weren't hurt?" she asked, moving back to the original topic.

Harry's other hand, which had been stroking her hair, stopped suddenly. He nudged her gently, and when she was looking at him, he said, "Were you worried about me?"

"No, I was perfectly calm, knowing that the boy I loved, who also happens to be number one on the Death Eaters' hit list, was scouring the countryside looking for dangerous magical objects," she retorted sarcastically. "Of course I was worried, you prat!"

"You don't put too fine a point on things, do you?" he asked, grimacing at her description of him. "I promise you Ginny, I don't take unnecessary risks."

"There's no need to promise me, Harry Potter," she replied hotly. "From now on, I'll be with you to make sure of it myself. Don't even think about leaving me behind again," she warned before he could even open his mouth.

"I'd love to have you sweetheart, but I don't think your mum would approve," he said regretfully.

She looked away, defeated. "You're right. I hate being youngest, and the girl!" she railed.

"Well I hope you don't mind me saying that I'm quite glad you're the girl," Harry teased.

Ginny looked surprised for a moment, then her gaze was decidedly coy. "Is that so, Mr. Potter?" she asked, looking up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. "Why exactly might that be?"

"Because," Harry said, leaning a little closer, "if you weren't a girl, I couldn't do this." Closing the gap between them, he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

"Mmm," Ginny sighed when he pulled back. "So what you're saying is that in exchange for being left behind, you'll kiss me every time I see you?"

It took Harry a moment to follow her logic, but when he did, he laughed. "I think we could arrange that," he agreed.

"You drive a hard bargain sir, but I accept. And now, so you know what you have to come home to…" She reached up and ran her fingertips over his face, tracing his lips lightly before sinking her hands into his hair and pulling his lips down to hers. She kept the pressure light, wanting to tease him with hints of emotion rather than sweep him away with passion.

Apparently it was enough, because when she ended the kiss a moment later, the only thing he said was, "I think I'll be coming home often."

Her laughter turned into a yawn, and he said, "Bedtime, Gin?"

"I don't want to say good night," she said, her words slowing.

"Do you just want to lay down here?" he asked, not any more anxious to let go than she was. When she nodded sleepily against his chest, he shifted slightly and pulled the blanket from the top of the couch over them.

"G'night, Gin," he whispered into her hair.

"Night Harry," she echoed.

He wasn't sure exactly what it was that woke him, but the first thing he was aware of was Mrs. Weasley standing over him, saying, "Shh! Be quiet you lot, or you'll wake them up!"

"Wake who up?" someone else—he thought it was Charlie—said from the other side of the room.

He was confused. Why were Mrs. Weasley and Charlie in his room? Then he felt someone shift next to him, and the previous night came back to him. Opening his eyes, he found the entire clan looking at him with varying degrees of amusement. He glanced worriedly at Mr. Weasley, but even he didn't seem upset that his daughter had apparently spent the night in his arms.

"Time to wake up, Ginny," he said and pulled the blanket off of her.

She shivered and opened her eyes a bare crack. "Do I have to, Harry?" she mumbled.

"Come on Ginny, get up!" Fred ordered loudly.

That got her attention. Blushing fiery red, she sat up and looked around at everyone. "What are you all doing here?"

Ron pointed to the tree. "We're all waiting to open our presents!"

Ginny's eyes widened, and she looked at her family again. "It's Christmas!"

"And she awakes!" George crowed gleefully. "All right everyone, get your presents…. Come on, that's it. Right now, is everyone ready? Then let's begin!"

Harry set aside the packaged marked, "From Ginny," to open last and then opened the rest of his gifts, watching the happy faces around him. Everyone had gotten a Weasley jumper, and he finally asked the question that had puzzled him for seven years. "Ginny, how does your mum find time to make all these jumpers?" he whispered.

"It's magic, Harry," she told him, laughing at his confusion. "She charms a second set of needles with the pattern she's using, and they do half the work. Of course, she still does most of them by hand, but what's the point of being a witch if you don't use magic? Now open my present," she commanded lightly.

Harry looked down at the last package he was holding. It was long and slim, with a bow at the top. Pulling that off first, he tried to put it on top of Ginny's head, but she laughed and dodged him. "Open it!"

Her eagerness made him curious, so he ripped the paper off quickly and opened the box. Inside was a beautiful quill made from a long, white feather. "It's enchanted, only the person the letter is addressed to will be able to read what you've written."

"Aww, how sweet!" Fred crooned. "Ginny got Harry a special quill so You-Know-Who won't be able to read their love letters."

"Actually, I bought it with annoying older brothers in mind," she retorted.

George shook his head dolefully. "I can't believe you'd say something like that about Ron."

"Me! She was talking about you, you prat!" Ron protested.

Harry ignored the rest of the exchange, focusing on Ginny. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"You're welcome," she answered with a smile. "Now I expect you to use that regularly…. I hated not hearing from you before. If you're going to be off to parts unknown, you can at least write."

"Letters when I'm gone and kisses when I get home?" Harry whispered in her ear. "Now who's driving a hard bargain, Miss Weasley?"

"I figure it's more workable than kisses when you're gone and letters when you're home," she teased.

Harry looked around; everyone else was already picking up their gifts and going back to their rooms to change. Once he was sure they were alone, he looked back at her and said, "I'm sorry I don't have a gift for you."

"That's the best thing about what I gave you," she told him, squeezing his hand. "It seems like a present for you, but it's really for both of us."

"All the same, I wish I had something to give you." He pondered for a moment and then said, "There is something... It would have to wait, since it's back at the Kiln…"

"Where?"

"Didn't I tell you about my house?"

"Harry, you hardly talked to me at all until last night."

"Oh. I know I told you about the woman who confused me for my father. We talked with her for a bit, and she told us the Potters are from Godric's Hollow. She told us how to get to the house, that's where we stayed when we were there."

"The Potter house is called The Kiln?" she asked, her lips quirking up into a smile.

"At least it's more imaginative than Malfoy Manor," he retorted. "It could have been Potter Place."

"Or it could have been the Potters' Wheel," she said solemnly.

"Anyway," he said, ignoring her last comment, "I found something there that I think you'd like. It's a tree…"

"Oh, a tree! Just what I always wanted!"

"Be quiet, you," he growled teasingly. "I'm trying to explain, and you're sitting there cracking jokes."

Schooling her features into an apologetic expression, she said, "I'm sorry Harry... do continue."

"No, I don't believe I will," he said, turning his nose up at her. "If all you can do is laugh at me, then maybe I don't want to tell you." He moved to stand up, waiting for her reaction.

"Oh no you don't, Harry Potter," she said, yanking on his arm and pulling him back onto the couch. "You're going to finish your story."

"You really want to know?" he asked, pretending to think it over.

"Yes!"

"And you won't interrupt anymore?"

"I'll be quiet as a mouse," she promised. "Now just get on with it!"

He grinned at her exasperation. "All right, all right! You really should learn some patience you know," he told her, ducking the pillow she threw at him.

"Finish the story!"

He settled into his seat and slipped his hand back through hers. "I found a tree on our last day there that had my grandparents' and parents' initials carved into it. I want to take you there and add our initials to it." He blushed, knowing that sounded unbelievably sappy. _It's the only thing I have to give her though,_ he reminded himself, fighting the heat spreading across his face.

She stared at him for a moment, taking in what he'd said, then she smiled. "You know what Harry? I think I rather like being given a tree."

"Is that so?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "I guess I should look for a nice oak to give you for your next birthday then."

She just rolled her eyes and said, "Come on. I hear people coming back downstairs and it smells like breakfast is ready."

George was the first one to see them when they entered the dining room. "Too busy snogging my sister to change?" he asked when he saw they were still wearing yesterday's clothes.

"We were just talking!" he objected over the loud laughter

"About what?" Charlie asked.

"Trees," Ginny said before Harry could answer.

"You talked about trees, mate?" Ron asked. "I'm going to have to give you lessons on how to talk to girls."

The twins rolled their eyes. "Because you're such an expert."

"Oh wait, we forgot Fred—"

"Lavender Brown," they chorused. "Best come to us, Harry!" they shouted over Ron's protests.

"I don't think Harry needs help from the likes of you," Molly said as she set the toast down in the middle of the table.

"You had to tell them we talked about trees?" he asked in an undertone as they passed the dishes.

"I could have said you gave me the sweetest Christmas present I've ever gotten—what do you think they would have said about that?"

He shuddered, imagining the ribbing he would have gotten. "Trees was good," he decided.

"I thought you'd think so."

"What are you two talking about now?" Bill asked.

"Trees," Harry said without missing a beat.

"All right, that's enough," Molly said, cutting off another round of teasing. "Finish your breakfast, all of you. I need to get started on dinner and I can't do that with you lollygagging around here. That's better," she said when they all focused on their food. "Ginny, could you clear the table when everyone is done eating?" Ginny nodded, and Molly retreated to the kitchen.

"Can I help?" Harry asked, standing with his empty plate and following Ginny into the kitchen.

"Actually…." She bit her lip and looked at him. "I was going to ask Hermione to help."

His eyes narrowed, taking in her almost guilty expression. "You're going to tell her, aren't you?"

"You'll explain to Ron, if only to get him to stop pestering you," she said, going back into the dining room. "Hermione, could you give me a hand?"

"Girl talk," Harry muttered, sitting down next to Ron and Bill, who were the only ones left at the table. "Where'd everyone else go?"

Bill answered. "Fred and George wanted to show Charlie some new Defense device they've designed, and Dad, Remus, and Tonks are talking in the study. Fleur is in our room, taking a nap. The odd hours are rough on her."

"So Harry, no one else is here… What were you really talking about?" Ron asked with a smirk.

"I told you, trees."

"Right…. C'mon, you can tell us."

He sighed, knowing Ginny was right. There was no other way to shut him up. He shot Bill a quick glance before realizing that of all her siblings, Bill was the one most likely to understand and therefore least likely to tease.

"When I went out on Halloween to put flowers on Mum and Dad's grave, I saw this tree with their initials and my grandparents' initials carved into it. I promised to take her there and add ours."

He heard Ron's low whistle of amazement, but he was more concerned by the unreadable expression on Bill's face. He watched in growing trepidation as the older man cast a silencing spell on the room. Something told him there was a reason Bill had chosen to stay in the room with him and Ron, and that reason had everything to do with being the oldest brother.

"Now that we're safe from eavesdroppers, I have a question for you, Harry."

Harry gulped. _Maybe I should have told Ron alone,_ he thought.

Bill correctly read his nervous expression. "Don't worry…. If you have the right answer, it's an easy question. How serious are you about my sister?"

"Are you asking…"

"What your intentions are," he said, nodding.

"Don't you think it's a bit early for that?" Ron protested.

"No, I don't," he said, keeping his eyes on Harry. "You've already hurt her once, and even though I think you did the right thing, I don't want you making promises to her if you're just going to leave her again."

His answer was instinctive. "I could leave Ginny just as easily as you could leave Fleur."

Bill's face relaxed, and he knew that had been the right answer. "All right then," he said agreeably. "Welcome to the family. Of course, you'll have to talk to everyone else before you make it official," he added, his mouth widening into a feral grin when Harry gulped again.

"Everyone?"

His voice was faint, and Bill took pity on him. "Don't worry about it too much, I was probably the hardest case—protective oldest brother, y'know."

Harry nodded weakly. Bill stood and clapped him on the shoulder and said, "I'm going to check on how my wife is doing. I'll see you both at dinner."

After he'd left, Harry realized Ron hadn't said anything since he'd answered Bill's question. When he looked at him, he caught a strange glint in his eyes. "What?"

"How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That… Ginny… you…" Ron stuttered, unable to put the thought together verbally.

A sudden suspicion struck Harry. "I thought you were okay with Ginny and I, Ron."

"Dating, but… Bill was asking about forever!" Ron finally spat out.

"Right. So what was the question again?"

"How did you know?"

This time, he understood what was being asked. "Oh. I didn't, not until Bill asked."

"You mean… Hermione… Mr. Granger… He'll have to ask me before I know the answer?" he asked, looking terrified and horrified all at once.

Harry copied Bill's grin and rolled up his sleeves. "Ron, Hermione is like a sister to me. Are you going to break her heart?"

"No!" Realization spread across his face. "You don't even know until you know, do you? And then once you do, you can't believe you never knew before."

Harry laughed. "Very profound, Ron."

"Harry, you don't think the girls heard that, do you?" Ron suddenly panicked.

"Bill left the Silencing charm up when he left."

"Right, good."

"We should take it down before they get suspicious. _Finite Incantatem_. You can come out now," he said loudly.

The words had barely left his mouth before Ginny and Hermione came barreling through the door. "What were you talking about?" Hermione wondered. "We've been done for ages!"

"You had your girl talk, we were having a man-to-man chat," Harry said, gesturing between himself and Ron.

When he waved his hand, Ginny caught sight of his scar for the first time. "What's that?"

"Ah…. Would you two mind leaving us alone?" he asked Ron and Hermione.

"Of course not," she said dragging Ron away.

"Was this what you were talking about earlier?" Ginny asked when he re-cast the Silencing charm.

He would have laughed if the truth wasn't so serious. "Not quite," he said vaguely. "Can we sit down?"

She sat, looking at him expectantly. "What is it, Harry?" she asked when he just stared into space.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I don't know where to start."

"The beginning usually works."

"The beginning…." Harry pondered for a moment, then spoke again. "Remus summoned us here, on the night of the break-out at Azkaban…" And he told her everything; how he'd known Snape was behind it, Remus telling him to stay at Grimmauld Place, the way it had felt being locked up there. He told her about how he'd started staying up nights and sleeping during the day, just to avoid talking to anyone.

And then he told her about the night Moody had lost Snape. He didn't leave anything out; he confessed to his rash plan to go after him alone, and the way his anger had made him feel hungry for the first time in two weeks. He told her then how the cut had happened, pulling his sleeve up again so she could trace the slightly raised scar.

He looked her in the eye. This was the part of the story no one knew, the part he didn't want to tell. Taking a deep breath, he said, "It felt… good. The pain, it made me feel powerful. I wanted more."

When he saw no sign of recoil or shock, he relaxed a little. "I think I would have done it, but I remembered something Professor Dumbledore once said, about not wanting me to experience any more pain. I knew it would be the worst way to dishonor his memory, hurting myself like that."

"What happened then?" she prompted, her open expression drawing the story out of him.

He smiled, feeling again the awe of that moment, of realizing that no matter what, his mentor would still be with him in some ways. "Fawkes came," he said simply.

"Then why do you have a scar?"

"I wanted one…. I wanted a reminder that sometimes, what's easiest is not always what's best."

They were both quiet for a moment, then Ginny started laughing. "What?" he asked, more than a little confused by her reaction.

"I was just thinking," she said, still giggling a little, "of what Voldemort would have done, if he'd been in your shoes."

Harry smiled. "Might have saved me a fair bit of trouble," he agreed. "Maybe he could destroy his own Horcruxes while he's at it."

It wasn't really funny, but they both enjoyed the irony anyway. "Guess we'll just have to find the fifth Horcrux ourselves."

"Speaking of which, you never did tell me how you destroyed the locket."

"We have to wait until Ron and Hermione are here for that," he said with a smile. "Suppose we should take down the Silencing charm?"

"Mum's probably going bananas," Ginny groaned. _"Finite Incantatem!"_

Seconds later, Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room, carrying a tray full of food. "You two had better go change, unless you want to be teased all over again for wearing the same clothes."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he said with a grin. "We lost track of time."

"Too busy enjoying being together to look at a clock I'm sure," she said with a wink, laughing when he blushed. "Go on, both of you," she ordered as she went back into the kitchen.

Forty-five minutes later, they were all following their noses back to the dining room, where the table was laden with rich foods and warm puddings. "Hands off, Arthur," Molly said, swatting his fingers away from a piece of stuffing.

"Just trying to give it a taste test, dear."

"You can taste it as soon as everyone takes their seats."

Surprisingly, despite having had the least amount of time to get ready, it was not Harry and Ginny who were holding things up. Ron and Hermione were just walking in, and from the looks on their faces, they'd lost track of time just like he and Ginny had.

_Well, probably not just like_, he amended silently, _unless he had something to confess to her._

Either way, they were late, and by the speculative looks they were getting from a few family members, it hadn't gone unnoticed. "Look Fred, it's Ronnikins and his girlfriend!"

"Shut up, George," Ron said, turning red.

"Maybe he does have more experience than just Lavender," Fred mused, stroking his chin slowly.

Hermione's eyes glinted. "I think I can safely say he does," she said, holding her shoulders back as if to defy anyone who would tease Ron further.

For the first time in Harry's acquaintance with them, the entire Weasley family was silent. He watched as they processed what Hermione had said, and then looked at Ginny, who already knew. Her eyes sparkled with laughter. "Well done, Hermione! I didn't think it was possible to keep Fred and George quiet for more than 10 seconds."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "You don't seem too surprised," he observed, glaring at Harry.

"Don't blame him," she shot back. "Anyone could see you two were together."

"But how?" Mrs. Weasley asked, finally breaking her silence.

"No more jealous rages," Remus answered, surprising all four teenagers.

"No more sulky fits," Tonks added.

"And much quieter periods after their quarrels, while they made up," Ginny finished, making them both blush.

"Well well! Ronny's all grown up with a real girlfriend, George!"

"Maybe he can give Harry advice after all, Fred."

Ron blushed even redder. "Shut it you two, it's time to eat," he said.

"Ah, and some things never change… Not even the lovely Hermione can distract him from food!"

"You two leave him alone," Mrs. Weasley ordered. "He's found a nice girl, which is more than can be said for either of you."

"It's hard to find a girl who can understand our work," Fred said, with the air of one making a great sacrifice.

Bill snorted. "Hard to find one who will put up with you, more like."

"I was just wondering," Charlie said, interrupting the budding argument, "if we could eat this dinner before it gets cold."

Harry laughed and started passing the food around the table. In the back of his mind lingered the knowledge that this was an idyll out of time and there was still work to be done, but he refused to let it ruin the meal. After all, it was Christmas and he was with his family. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: **I've been without a computer since mine died in December. I'm set with a new laptop now, so expect more regular (as in, not taking four months) updates from here on. After all, I need to get this done by July. 

**Chapter 10: Back to the Beginning**

As December faded into January, London's Christmas cheer melted into winter's dreariness. Cold rain fell on New Year's Day, washing away the holiday decorations and leaving the city grey.

The change in atmosphere affected Harry the most. Though there was laughter inside the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, he could no longer be wholly distracted from the business of hunting Voldemort, not even by the warmth of family.

Every night he sat in front of the glow of the fire kept constantly lit in the library, his frustration grew. Talking with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione was not going to find the missing Horcrux or catch Voldemort.

"Have you thought about where to go next?" Remus asked one evening.

Harry looked away from the fire, surprised by the question. "I thought you wanted us here," he said casually, trying to cover up his enthusiasm. He'd become certain that it was time to leave, but he hadn't known how to broach the topic with Remus.

"I did, at first. But you have changed, Harry. Your impulsiveness has been tamed by something…" Harry shifted slightly in his seat but didn't answer the obvious question. Remus didn't need to know about the incident in the kitchen, as long as he could see the results.

When Harry remained quiet, Remus shrugged and went on. "I don't believe I was wrong to bring you here as I did, nor do I believe it was a complete waste of our time. You did find an important spell and destroy a Horcrux—two steps closer to the end. But…"

Harry finished the thought for him. "There's nothing more I can do from here. I still need to find the fifth Horcrux before I can face Voldemort. I won't find that here… but where?" He wondered, wrinkling his brow in contemplation.

"Hogwarts," Ginny said, surprising them both. "That's the answer, isn't it Professor Lupin?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Why Hogwarts?" Ron asked.

"Because Ron," she said with exaggerated patience, "it seems logical that as much as Tom loved the school, he might have hidden a Horcrux there."

"I thought of that too, but I don't know when he would have had the opportunity," Harry said.

"Voldemort was always more than capable of making his own opportunity, Harry. You should know that more than anybody." Harry grimaced at the reminder, and Remus went on. "There's another reason to return to Hogwarts however; the library."

"Of course! I can't believe I didn't think of it!" Hermione said, smacking her forehead with her hand. "The largest collection of books about Hogwarts and its founders is at Hogwarts. Surely we'll find some mention of a Ravenclaw artifact he might have used as a Horcrux."

"But how can we go back? We're not students anymore," Ron pointed out.

"And Professor McGonagall wasn't happy with me last summer when I wouldn't tell her about the Horcruxes," Harry added.

"Don't worry Harry, I've already written Minerva. She's agreed to let you stay in your old rooms. Truth be told, I didn't give her much room to argue," he said, smiling a little.

From that, Harry guessed that however politely he'd phrased it, he had made it an order. He'd been surprised at first to learn that Remus had taken over as leader of the Order of the Phoenix, but it made sense. Professor McGonagall was tied to the school without the benefit of a deputy to step in, Moody was more content in the field than managing operations, and Arthur was needed inside the Ministry.

"Will they take the train back with me?" Ginny asked.

"No, that would give the Death Eaters far too easy a target. They'll Apparate to the school gates the day classes start."

"We're not going to be actually… studying, are we?" Ron asked.

"You could use the extra time with the books," Hermione told him.

"Oh, and the books were so helpful when we were looking for Slytherin's locket," Ron jibed, laughing when she blushed.

"That's right!" Ginny said, poking Harry in the side. "You promised to tell me when Ron and Hermione were here. Well, we're all here now."

Ron grinned. "Now that's a funny story." Hermione groaned and covered her red face with her hands. "See, Hermione here was getting rather frustrated that she couldn't find something in a book."

Ginny feigned shock. "Hermione couldn't find something in a book?" she gasped, laughing when her friend parted her fingers and glared at her.

"Exactly. She was quite upset about it really."

Hermione dropped her hands to her hips and glared at Ron. "I was trying to find information on another Horcrux," she said hotly. "I think it's perfectly understandable that I was getting a little agitated, Ronald."

Knowing how quickly their discussions turned into involved arguments, Harry quickly stepped in to keep the conversation on track. "That was when I suggested we work on the locket for a while, since we knew it existed at least."

"A smart decision," Remus said with an approving nod, "but I'm still not sure how you found it."

"We have Hermione to thank for that," he said, grinning at his embarrassed friend. "She was rather doubtful of my idea, so she was mocking me, asking if we were just supposed to raise our wands and say—"

"Accio Slytherin's locket!" he and Ron chorused.

"You should have seen the look on her face when it flew through the air," Ron chortled.

"Yes, well it was supposed to be a joke!"

"But it worked, Hermione," Ginny pointed out.

"That's right. Without you, the locket would still be hiding here in plain sight," Remus said. "It was good work, even if it was accidental." She looked slightly mollified by the praise.

Remus waited a minute and then turned to Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. "If you three would excuse us, I need to speak to Harry alone."

"What's going on, Remus?" Harry asked as his friends filed out, shooting puzzled glances over their shoulders. "You know I'll tell them whatever it is as soon as we're done, why go to the trouble of having them leave?"

Remus shut the door before answering. "Because that's the way leadership works," he said. "Information is shared and plans are discussed, and then it is decided how much to pass on. I'm not asking you to keep things from them Harry, but you are the leader; not Ron, not Hermione, not Ginny. As such, it is your right to hear things first. Whatever you choose to tell your friends is up to you."

Harry nodded and he continued. "You left this down here last night," he said, holding up a book. "I'm curious to know what your plans are."

He recognized is as his book on wandless magic. "My wand doesn't work against Voldemort's," he said. "They share a core. I thought if I learned some basic wandless magic, I might be able to disarm him."

Remus looked at him thoughtfully. "I wonder where you get your almost instinctive abilities in Defense Against the Dark Arts," he mused. "James excelled in Transfiguration, and I'm sure Slughorn told you about your mother's aptitude in Potions. Neither of them was particularly adept at Defense."

"Does that mean you think it's a good idea?" Harry asked hopefully.

"It means it's one I wouldn't have thought of, and that would certainly take Voldemort by surprise. But Harry, wandless magic isn't something you can learn from a book, or even something you can practice. You can't control it; it flows from the emotion of the moment."

Harry raked his hands through his hair. "Then how am I supposed to defeat Voldemort?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I know who might. You might try talking to Professor Dumbledore's portrait when you get to Hogwarts."

When the trio walked through Hogwarts' doors two days later, the Headmistress was waiting for them. "Good, you made it. Come with me," she said crisply, leading the way to her office. They smiled and rolled their eyes—Same McGonagall: no welcome, just straight to business.

"Quaffles, she said distinctly to the statue guarding the stairs.

"That's her password?" Ron whispered as they ascended to the Head's office.

"She's as obsessed with Quidditch as Professor Dumbledore was with sweets," Harry replied.

"I prefer to call it healthily devoted, Potter," she said without turning around. "You are correct about Albus however," she added as they entered the room.

"Correct about what, Minerva?" a familiar voice asked.

Harry started violently. The last time he'd been in this room, Dumbledore's portrait had been asleep. Now it was most definitely awake, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon glasses. "Professor!"

"Hello Harry. I see you have brought Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger with you, very good. How are you coming along?"

Harry glanced at his friends and saw they were still frozen in shock. He felt a brief stab of sympathy; this was the first time either of them had seen their former Headmaster's portrait.

"Er… that's actually why we're here, Professor. Hermione wants to take another crack at the school library—"

"I think Hermoine'd like to live in the school library if she could."

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, regaining control of their meeting. "Your things have already been taken up to the Tower, as you are aware. Your roommates know you will be arriving tonight. I asked you here so we could discuss some ground rules."

"No surprise there," Ron muttered, and then grunted when Hermione dug her elbow into his ribs.

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "I am going to pretend you didn't say that, young man. As I was saying, you are not students, so you will not be required to keep curfew. I have arranged with Madam Pince for you to have full access to the library, including the Restricted Section. You are free to come and go between the castle and the village as you wish, though I would advise you to remain within the safety of the grounds."

Her lips tightened before she continued. "However, Miss Weasley is a student and still needs to abide by all school rules. If you wish to enlist her aid in your search that is acceptable — as long as her school work does not falter. One misstep and you will find that I am still quite capable of punishing you, even if you no longer attend this school. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor," they chorused.

"Good. The password on the portrait hole is _Mountain Troll_. I thought it would bring back some memories," she said with just a hint of a smirk. "Good night, I shall see you tomorrow for breakfast."

Harry started to file out of the room behind his friends, but turned back at the last minute. "Professor… I was wondering… would it be all right… could I speak with Professor Dumbledore?"

For an instant, her eyes softened and Harry knew she understood his desire to talk to his mentor alone. "Very well, Potter. I will be in my quarters, kindly knock when you are finished."

He watched her go into a second room before walking slowly around the desk to stand face to face with the portrait. "I was hoping I could ask you a question, sir."

Portrait-Dumbledore's mouth lifted into a sad smile. "Ah, Harry. I am not truly myself, you know that. I am merely an impression of a man who once lived. I am afraid that all I could do is repeat what I have told you before."

"But maybe that would be enough, sir," Harry persisted. "Maybe… maybe you already told me the answer, and I've just forgotten."

Well-remembered and much missed compassion shone in the blue eyes. "Very well, Harry. I will do my best. What is your question?"

"How am I supposed to kill Voldemort?"

"Yes, we have talked of this before, and if I may say so, you do yourself no credit by discounting what I have told you many times."

The eyes that peered over the glasses were as stern as McGonagall's, prodding Harry to defend himself. "Sir, if you're talking about love again…"

"It is impolite to interrupt a dead man, Harry." The mild rebuke made Harry flush and incline his head apologetically. "Now then…. Yes, I am speaking of love. For some reason, you never heard me when I explained this to you. It is an act of love that will save you."

"An act of love has already saved me once sir; and Voldemort managed to turn it around to his favor."

"You are referring to the incident when he took your blood."

It wasn't a question, but Harry answered anyway. "Yes, I am! My blood that was supposed to keep me safe, because my mother's sacrifice was in it. He took it, and now he can touch me without even flinching—but my scar burns when he does. So excuse me sir if that doesn't seem like very good protection."

"Harry, like so many things Voldemort has done, that will not turn out as he had planned."

Harry looked at him keenly, hoping for another clue. Dumbledore remained quiet, and he finally asked, "Is that it?"

Dumbledore chuckled at his disappointment."Do not trouble yourself, Harry. You will understand… When the time is right, you will understand."

"Yes, well… thank you, sir." Harry knocked on Professor McGonagall's door and left, feeling perhaps more confused than he had before.

He made his way to the Tower almost by habit. "Mountain troll," he said absently to the Fat Lady.

"Welcome back," she said warmly, opening for him.

"What took you so long?" Ginny asked when he finally entered the Common Room.

"I wanted to ask Dumbledore what spell I'm supposed to use to kill Voldemort, he said, sitting down next to her on the couch and placing his hand in hers.

"What did he say?" Ron asked.

"He said… I'll understand when the time is right."

"Completely nutters," Ron said, sounding happy that death had apparently not changed him.

"Did he say anything else?" Hermione pressed.

"He said that something Voldemort once tried would backfire on him… He used my blood when he came back, he can touch me now." Harry had never told them this and he gave them a moment to digest it. "Then he said it would be an act of love. He always said love would defeat Voldemort in the end."

"There you have it then. Tomorrow morning, you start looking through all the spell books we can find for any spells involving love," Hermione said, satisfied to be getting back to her books.

"Do you really think it's going to be that simple?"

Surprisingly, it was Ron who answered. "Harry, Dumbledore was mad as a hatter, but he was always right."

"Tomorrow morning then," Hermione repeated decisively. "Now, I think we ought to…"

"See the view from the Astronomy Tower," Ron interrupted, dragging her toward the portrait hole.

"But…"

"Don't argue," Harry and Ginny heard him say before the door shut. "I've been wanting to get you up there for years."

"That was more than I needed to know," Harry groaned. 

"Really? And I suppose you've never dreamed about meeting a girl in the Astronomy Tower?" Ginny teased.

"Maybe," he said, pulling her closer. "But I should tell you that your Headmistress gave me a very thinly veiled warning not to distract you from your studies. I don't think she would approve of us sneaking off to be alone."

"Hmmm… What do you think she'd say about us being alone on a comfortable couch in front of a fireplace?" she asked, rubbing her thumb across the palm of his hand.

"I think she's going to have to live with that," Harry whispered before pulling her into a kiss.

It was much later when she pulled back and said, "I think I should go upstairs now."

He groaned his protest and lowered his lips back onto hers. "Don't go."

"But Harry," she said, wide eyed and innocent, "what would Professor McGonagall think if she knew you were already distracting me?"

He knew exactly what she would say, and the tone of voice she would use. "You're not being fair," he whined but let her go nonetheless.

"I know I'm not, and you love me for it," she said impishly, giving him a quick peck before standing up.

"I do," he agreed before yawning loudly.

"You should go to bed too," she told him. "Hermione is going to have you in the library all day, every day, until you find something."

"That won't be any different than when we were in school," he said and stood up.

"Except this time she's trying to save your life, not just your Potions grade." Her voice was sharper than usual, and Harry looked at her, surprised. "You will take this seriously, won't you?"

He hugged her and said, "It's not just my life, it's yours and everyone else's. Believe me, I'm taking it very seriously." The honesty in his eyes satisfied her searching gaze, and she gave him one more hug before going upstairs. Once she was gone, he sat back down in front of the fire, staring into its flames. "You don't know how seriously I'm taking it," he said quietly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: The Power the Dark Lord Knows Not**

He soon regretted his promise. While Ron and Hermione split the research on the Founders between them, he spent the next several weeks reading a very large stack of books with titles like, _Love Potions for the Lovelorn, Love Spells for the Broken Hearted, _and his favorite, _How to Use Your Wand to Win Your Witch's Heart._ He still blushed when he remembered the way Ron had howled with laughter at that one.

"How am I supposed to take this seriously when my research looks like a pile of wizard porn?" he'd protested to Ginny later that same evening. She'd merely smiled and told him (in what he thought was a very unsympathetic manner) that as long as he lived, she didn't care how embarrassed he got.

Still, he knew better than to go back on his word. For one thing, he needed to find the spell that would allow him to defeat Voldemort. For another, if he didn't, the Dark Lord wouldn't need to kill him—Ginny would do it for him. That thought alone was enough to keep him in the common room most evenings, slowly working his way through the books.

That was where Ginny found him one evening in mid-February. The common room was surprisingly empty, so he'd claimed the couch directly in front of the hearth. A large fire was roaring, keeping the mid-winter cold at bay. He had just balled up a page of his notes and tossed them into the flames when she sat down next to him. "What are your plans for the evening?"

He didn't look up, but held the book up so she could see the title. "Thirty pages left." _Thirty pages, and I'm no closer to finding a spell that will work,_ he thought, not without some anxiety. There was no shortage of love spell books in the library, but after six weeks he was starting to see repeat spells and a dwindling amount of new material. Even the few he'd found in the Restricted Section (books with disturbing titles, like _A Woman Scorned: 50 Ways to Hex Your Lover__i_), hadn't been useful.

Ginny's voice drew him from his thoughts back into the warm common room. "_He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not: How to Get the Answer You're Looking For_. Do people really read stuff like this?"

Harry flipped to the front page of the book, running a finger over the list of checkouts. "This one has been checked out dozens of times, including once by a Miss Ginny Weasley. I wonder, is there a chapter on writing love poems?"

She tossed one of the square red and gold pillows at him and then sat down next to him. "That's enough of that, have you found anything useful?"

He flipped the book open to the table of contents and snorted. "Oh yeah, loads," he said sarcastically. "There's _Primus Amor_—First Love; _Prinum Osculum Amoris_—Love's First Kiss; and even _Amor Semper Durat_—Love Lasts Forever. Voldemort already has the "last forever" part down; I don't think he needs my help. I haven't found anything that sounds remotely like an act of love or that seems to be powerful enough to be a defense spell."

Ginny peered over his shoulder and Harry was suddenly distracted by the scent of flowers. "Here's one that sounds interesting," she said, pointing at the opposite page.

He shook himself out of his Ginny-induced haze and read the line she was pointing at, and then frowned. "_Amissus Amor_? You're having me on, right?"

She grinned at him impishly. "Well, there's certainly no love lost between you and Voldemort."

"Very funny, Gin," he said, rolling his eyes.

She chuckled and then snuggled into his side. "I thought so. What does it do anyway?"

It was fast becoming clear to Harry that no more studying would get done this evening, so he wrapped one arm around Ginny and held the book loosely in his other hand. "_Amissus Amor:_ The Lost Love Spell. When this spell is performed, the caster will be thrown into a trance. Memories and images of a lost love will play out in their minds with startling reality."

Harry thought it sounded rather like something Fred and George would come up with, and was about to wonder aloud if they'd used something like it in the creation of their Patented Daydream Charms when Ginny asked a question. "It helps you… dream of someone you've lost?"

The slight break in her voice caught his attention. When he looked at her, she was staring straight into the fire. "Do we need to talk about this?" he asked, setting the book down.

"Talk about what?" she asked, clenching her hands together. "The fact that as soon as Voldemort shows up, you're going to have to fight him again? Voldemort, the mad magician determined to kill you?" She paused for a moment and glanced at him briefly before looking away again. "Harry, what if he succeeds?"

He stroked her arm lightly, trying to bring her back to reality. "Hey, aren't you the one constantly telling me I can win?"

His attempt at levity only earned him a strangled laugh. "Most of me believes that… the rest of me is just… just afraid that you'll leave me." His heart ached when she dashed the tears from her eyes. "Listen to me, going on like some silly girl."

The fear and frustration in her voice so echoed what he was feeling that he knew he had to make her see it all—he had to show her what he was most afraid of. Memories of his boggart flickered in his consciousness. He caught her chin and waited for her to look him in the eye. When she finally did, he dropped all his defenses and let her see exactly what he was feeling. He saw the flicker of comprehension, and knew that she understood.

"Do you think you're the only one with that fear, Ginny?" His voice was raspy, and she winced at the raw emotion. "I'm dead scared that something will happen to you—Ron and Hermione too, but mostly you. I wish…"

She sat up straighter and glared at him with some of her usual vim and vigor. "Harry Potter, don't you dare go back on your word. You promised me last summer that I could be there at the end. You can't change your mind now."

Now it was Harry's turn to stare at the fire. "I won't. I mean… I would if I could, but I know better than that. But… Hell Gin, how am I supposed to focus on Voldemort if I'm wondering if you're alive?"

She frowned now, her Gryffindor spirit back in full. "You won't have to wonder. I don't plan on leaving your side when the time comes," she said tartly. "Someone has to make sure you don't do something noble and get yourself killed."

A ghost of a smile crossed Harry's face at their inside joke, but at the same time her words made his insides twist with fear. "Don't do anything stupid. If I had to watch you die…"

"The same goes for you."

Harry slowly unclenched her hands and slipped one of them between his. Again, half remembered words from Dumbledore were surfacing in his mind. This time though the wisdom was for someone else. "I need you to promise me something."

"What?"

"If I die—" Her hand tightened around his reflexively. "I said if, Ginny—if I die, promise me you won't use the Lost Love spell. Living in dreams… that's not really living."

"That sounds like sage advice, coming from you," she said shrewdly.

Harry made a face at the backhanded compliment. "It's not really coming from me… It's something Dumbledore told me in my first year. I know you've heard the story about how we got through the trap door and how I found Quirrell, but I don't think I ever really told you about how I first found the Mirror of Erised."

He paused to remember that cold wintery night six years earlier. "I was wandering the castle over the Christmas holiday and…" He told her the whole story; how he'd found the mirror, and had become so entranced by it that he would spend hours staring at the picture of himself with his parents and extended family—the one thing in life he wanted so desperately, but had never had. "And Dumbledore told me that men have wasted away in front of the mirror, living in their dreams… I don't want that to happen to you," he said in conclusion.

Instead of being duly chastened, she was looking at him thoughtfully. "I promise, but Harry… has it ever occurred to you that Dumbledore always prepared you for the challenge he knew you were going to face?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's always given you the tools you would need. In your first year, he made sure you knew how the Mirror of Erised worked before hiding it down the trap door. In your second year, he showed you Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, in your third year he gave Hermione the Time-Turner…"

Harry could easily see where she was going, and continued the list for her. "And in fourth year, he hired Moody to teach us so I'd be prepared to deal with the Dark Arts when I came face to face with them."

He felt Ginny looking at him expectantly, but he couldn't think of what she wanted him to say. She rolled her eyes and said, "Can't you see? He's always given you exactly what you need to face whatever challenge waited for you. Now he's told you that love is all you need to defeat Voldemort. Maybe you ought to take him at his word."

The hope he'd felt when she'd started this line of thinking disappeared. She didn't have any new insights… In fact, she sounded so much like Professor Dumbledore that for a moment, he almost wondered if she'd gone into McGonagall's office to speak to his portrait. He'd gone over the Dumbledore's words a million times, they held no answers.

"And no, I haven't talked to Dumbledore," she said, reading his mind once again. "Maybe I've just paid a bit more attention to what he's already said. We're looking for a spell, Harry, but what if there isn't a spell? I don't remember there being anything in this book that could help you—yes, I did read it once," she said, cutting him off before he could sidetrack her.

"But if it isn't a spell, what is it?" he asked, a deep frown marring his features.

She sighed and rolled her eyes again, and he started to feel a bit like he did when he was talking to Hermione. "Maybe it's just love, Harry," she said, and he wanted to throw his hands up in exasperation. He'd heard the "just love" mantra so many times he wanted to scream, and yet people kept coming back to it.

Ginny didn't just leave it there for him to figure out by himself though, she explained a bit further. "The love you held for Sirius was enough that Voldemort couldn't stand to possess you. Your mother didn't have time to cast a spell to protect you, but her love for you was strong enough to save your life. Neither you nor your mother used a spell. It was just love."

He blinked. For once, the concept of love as the ultimate defense against Voldemort had been laid out for him in a manner he could understand, and almost accept. Something about it bothered him though, driving him to argue. "That… that makes no sense," he stammered, his brain scrambling for the missing piece

Ginny pulled back and looked at him, one brow arched. "You don't think love is stronger than Voldemort?" she asked.

Harry backpedaled quickly. "Of course it is. I'm just saying… Love… death… defeating the Dark Lord… completely mental!" he answered haltingly, now more nervous than before.

"Ah, but mental like Dumbledore, as Ron would say," she told him, her expression serene. "Keep reading the books if you really want to, Harry, but mark my words—it's just love that'll defeat Voldemort."

She got up then and walked to her dorm room. Harry watched her go, slack-jawed. Dumbledore did insist that love was what would let him kill Voldemort, but he'd refused to take the headmaster at his word. And there was still something niggling in the back of his mind, insisting that Ginny was forgetting something…

And then he had it. Both of the two times she'd mentioned had involved a death. He didn't particularly want to die, as his mother had done to save him, and he was adamant that none of his friends would give their lives, like Sirius had. So how could he get the emotional energy he'd need?

He shook his head slightly, determined to get back to his studying. A giggle from the portrait hole distracted him however, and he looked up to see two fourth years whose names he couldn't remember walk in, both of them starry eyed. The girl held a red rose and a card in her hand, and he remembered what day it was.

"You forgot Valentine's Day?" Ron asked when Harry mentioned it the next morning at breakfast. "That could be bad, mate. You know how crazy girls get over this stuff."

"She didn't say anything though," he argued. "If she was upset, she would have said something."

"She could have just been baiting you, giving you time to hang yourself," Neville said. "After all, doesn't she usually join you for breakfast?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been living the war since summer, but the biggest shock to them had been returning to school and finding their dorm rooms half empty. Neville was the only 7th year boy remaining in Gryffindor, and Hermione actually had her room to herself. When they'd asked Neville why he'd returned when no one else had, he's simply shrugged and said, "Gran wanted me to stay home or fight in the war, but I figured part of the fight was to keep life as normal as possible. And I reckon… I reckon my mum and dad would want me to finish school." It was one of the few times he'd ever mentioned his parents of his own volition, and Harry's respect for his friend had risen even more.

In the six weeks they'd been back at school, he'd also learned that Neville's quiet personality gave him the perfect opportunity to observe people. He didn't very often share his thoughts, but when he did, he was usually spot on. Ginny was harder to pin down than most people, but if Neville thought she might be upset with Harry, it was a distinct possibility.

"What do you think, Hermione?" Harry asked, turning to the only girl sitting at their end of the table. She was being unusually quiet, which typically meant that her mind had skipped ahead five or six steps to the solution to their problem.

"About what?" she asked absently.

"About… Hang on, what were you thinking about?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

Hermione snapped out of her semi-trance and glanced around at the other tables. They were all half-full, but that still amounted to about 200 students milling around the Great Hall. "I'll tell you in a minute," she said and stood up from the table.

Ron and Harry stood up with her. "See you later, Neville," Harry said. "Have a good morning."

"Not likely… I have a Charms exam," he said glumly.

"That's one thing I don't miss about school," Ron told Harry, whispering so Hermione wouldn't hear him.

"Name one thing you did miss," Harry challenged him.

Ron's answer was immediate. "The food," he said, patting his stomach. "Well, that and the Hogsmeade visits."

"Oh, will you two stop!" Hermione said over her shoulder as she led them up the stairs. "There are things that matter more than food or Hogsmeade."

"Or if Ginny is mad at me," Harry added, and noted they were turning down the seventh floor corridor. He felt a slightly sick feeling in his stomach when he realized they were going to the Room of Requirement. The Room of Requirement, where Draco had used the Vanishing Cabinets as a type of Trojan Horse to let the Death Eaters into the castle. "Ah, Hermione?" he said quietly.

"Give me a minute, will you?" she asked, pacing three times opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. "There," she said when the door appeared. "Go on, get in there."

Harry was the first to reach for the handle. He turned it slowly, not sure what he would see on the other side, or even what he was expecting to see. When he saw the familiar red and gold décor of the Gryffindor common room, he breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing here indicating what had happened the last time the room had been used.

"Hermione, if you wanted to talk, why couldn't we just have gone back to the common room?" Ron asked.

She huffed impatiently before answering. "Because I didn't want anyone else to hear, of course. Or maybe you'd like us talking about ways to defeat Voldemort where any Gryffindor can walk by?"

"Why don't you just tell us what you're talking about, Hermione," Harry said, wanting to stop the argument before it got started.

The trio sat down in their favorite group of chairs right in front of the fireplace. "Valentine's Day got me thinking," she said once they settled comfortably into their seats. "After all, Dumbledore told you that it's love that will defeat Voldemort, and I guess seeing all the couples wandering around yesterday… well, I started thinking," she repeated.

"About what?"

"About what it could possibly mean for love to defeat Voldemort. And by the way, I don't think you've given that nearly enough credence, either one of you. Haven't you ever heard that love conquers all?" Ron and Harry looked at each other blankly and then back at her. "Of course not," she muttered. "You would actually have to have read a book.

"Anyway, I was thinking… Harry, why can't we take his words at face value? He's never led us astray before."

Ron cut in before Harry could answer. "You're mad, Hermione. Harry can't just walk into the final battle wandless and expect his love to save him."

"No, of course not. But love has defeated Voldemort twice before, hasn't it?"

Harry was starting to get an odd sense of déjà vu, and he was glad to let Ron keep arguing with Hermione so he could collect his thoughts. "Has it really?" his friend asked. "Why don't you fill us in, Hermione?"

"Oh, you're being ridiculous!" she said, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "I'd think at least one would be perfectly obvious—when Harry survived the Killing Curse, of course. He's told us what happened, how his mother's sacrifice sheltered him from Voldemort."

"Yeah, but I reckon Harry doesn't want to die, or let anyone else die so he'll be safe enough to kill You-Know-Who," Ron retorted.

"You said twice, Hermione. When was the other time?" Harry asked, already knowing what she was going to say. She bit her lip, looking hesitant for the first time. "You can say it," he told her. "It's Sirius, isn't it?"

She looked relieved that he'd said it first, but Ron still didn't get it. "What about Sirius? He died, remember? How exactly did love save him?"

"Yes, Ron, I do remember that my godfather is dead," Harry said mildly. Ron turned a deep red and shut his mouth.

"I'm not really sure on this, it's just something that I've pieced together from what Harry's told us about that night…" Hermione said, looking unsure again. "He said Voldemort tried to possess him, and… I don't know exactly what happened…"

"All I could think about was Sirius," Harry cut in. "I wanted to let Voldemort have me, because then I'd be dead and I'd be with Sirius again."

"Right. And Voldemort left you alone after that," she said triumphantly.

"And what does that have to do with love?" Ron asked, genuinely curious now.

"The only thing on my mind when he tried to take over was love, and he backed off like I was a hot potato," Harry explained. "I'm still curious to know where you're going with this, Hermione," he said, even though he had a pretty good idea himself.

"Why are we so certain there's a spell involved?" she asked. "Dumbledore never mentioned finding a spell that would defeat Voldemort. The prophecy doesn't mention a spell, it mentions a power—"a power the Dark Lord knows not." We all agree by now that power is love. What if that's literally all there is to it?"

"What exactly is he supposed to do then—walk up to You-Know-Who and love him to death?" Ron said, asking the same question Harry had wanted to ask since Ginny had suggested it earlier.

"Of course not. He'll have all the standard Defense hexes and curses, but he'll have a different reason for using them. Remember what I said at the wedding Harry? I told you that you would win because you have the good things to look forward too. That's the power behind your magic. All Voldemort has is hate and more hate."

Harry nodded his agreement and moved toward the door. "If we're finished here, I'm going to go find Ginny. She's got a free hour right now, if I can catch her before Potions."

Before leaving the Room of Requirement, he took a quick look at the Marauders' Map. He'd grown used to carrying it with him at all times the year before, and it was still dead useful. _Good, she's in the real common room alone,_ he thought and then wiped the map clean and headed up the stairs to the tower.

"Mimbulus mimbletonia," he said to the Fat Lady. As the ranking Gryffindor, Neville was in charge of the password, and he favored Herbology references. _At least he can remember it,_ he thought wryly as he entered the common room.

He easily spotted Ginny sitting alone in the corner of the room, curled up in one of the larger chairs with a book on her lap. "Hey," he said, approaching her slowly in case she was upset.

"Morning, Harry," she said, not looking up from her book. "Sorry I wasn't at breakfast this morning; I wanted to study the different uses of this potion in case Slughorn gives us a quiz today."

_Well, she doesn't seem angry. Maybe this is a safe time to apologize. _ "That's okay. Listen Ginny, I'm sorry I forgot yesterday was Valentine's Day."

"Oh, was it?" she said, but even he could tell the casualness was fake.

_That's not a good sign, however. _"You know it was. Really, I'm sorry. I've just been spending so much time looking for hexes and curses and spells and… I just forgot."

"Harry," she said, finally putting her book down and looking at him fully. "If I were mad, don't you think I would have said something?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. "You're not upset then?" he asked, just to make sure.

Ginny smiled softly and stroked his face. "No. I spent the whole night talking to you." She grinned then, and he knew the danger was truly past. "It might not have been a traditional Valentine's Day, but when have we ever been traditional?"

The laughed together, but part of him was still feeling guilty that he hadn't given her the special night she deserved. "Next year, Ginny, I promise."

"You just make sure there is a next year," she scolded him playfully.

"Yeah… about that..." he said, realizing he ought to tell her about Hermione's ideas.

"What about it?" she asked as she made room on the chair for Harry to sit next to her.

He sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her before answering. "Hermione agrees with your theory."

"Of course she does. I'm right," she said and poked him in the ribs.

He squirmed slightly at the ticklish sensation. "I'm beginning to think you might be," he admitted.

"Oh, how very gracious of you, Harry."

"No, I mean… she gave me a few more ideas. It's not just me going in, wearing my love for you and everyone else as some kind of magic shield. It's more that… love is the power, the energy behind any spell that I cast, and love is greater than any of Voldemort's power."

"I think you have it, Harry," Ginny said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I ought to go up to my room and get ready for class."

She brushed past him, and his senses were flooded with the scent of flowers. "I don't think so," he growled. Before she could get out of reach, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into his lap. "I think I want you right here for just a moment longer."

He kissed her then, and just like every other time, the world disappeared. There was no Voldemort or Death Eaters, just him and Ginny. _This is magic,_ he thought hazily and pulled her even closer. He felt her twine her arms around his neck and he ran one hand lazily up and down her back.

A few minutes later, a familiar voice penetrated his consciousness. "Oy! There are other people in here, mate."

Harry and Ginny broke the kiss, but he still wouldn't let her leave his lap. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her waist and smiled cheekily at Ron. "I'm just practicing my power the Dark Lord knows not, Ron."

"Yeah, well that better be all the practicing you do," Ron mumbled and tossed him a pointed look.

Ginny slipped from his grip and stood up, leaving one hand on his shoulder for a moment. "Harry, I think Ron has an unknown power too," she said before he could reply to the obvious warning.

"What's that, Gin?"

"Being a prat," she said and flounced up the stairs.

i Credit Paul Simon's "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover."


End file.
